Only now, the grief of being alone had become more painful than her fear of losing another loved one.
“Life is short, and I’m lonely,” she confessed. “And you’ve been … well, I just want to. With you.”
Sarae’s heart was pounding. All she wanted to do was take him right there.
Eyes on the road, she thought. Hands on the wheel. It will do no good for us if I start kissing on him and we crash into the ditch.
“I’ll be gentle,” Remy said. “I can’t make any promises, but I want to spend this time with you. Without our owls. Just you and me.”
Oh, God. Hearing that from his lips sent a thrill of pleasure through her body that was almost more than she could bear.
She wanted nothing more than to turn the car around, take Remy home, and throw him down on her bed. She wanted to crawl on top of him and press every part of her body against his. Feel his hot lips searing her, his hot skin pressing against hers, his heart thumping against hers. She wanted to undress him. She wanted to slide her hands across his chest as she took that damn shirt off him. She didn’t want anything between them.
She’d been alone too long. She’d had no idea how crazy it had made her.
“You’re making it very hard for me to concentrate on my driving right now,” Sarae said in a shaking voice. “I want you so much right now. You can’t even imagine.”
“Oh, I think I can imagine,” Remy said, his voice husky with emotion. “But first we have to find those girls.”
And here was the Millers’ house. Sarae took some deep breaths to calm herself down as she pulled up in the driveway.
Remy wrapped his hand around hers, gently. His hand felt so large and comforting around hers.
“Soon,” he said.
“Not soon enough,” she breathed.
Remy smiled, and she did too, anticipation heating the air between them.
Harbingers
Remy put on his mirrored sunglasses as he eyed the house. It was a McMansion outside of town with a lake that was dyed blue and huge two story houses and three-car garages with the kind of sad tiny trees that had been planted there for a while and were still struggling to grow. The lawns were immaculate and the landscaping was boring.
Sarae was looking over the house as if cowed. “I don’t know about this,” she murmured. “I don’t like dealing with these kind of people. To be honest, I’m a little scared right now.”
He took her hand and removed his sunglasses for a moment so she could see his eyes. “Look,” he said. “I’ve seen better architecture back in LA. These people just want to make a show of how well-off they are. But I’ve dealt with people who have a lot more than these people. This?” He made a pff noise. “It’s nothing. You’re just as good as they are. Even better. Okay?”
Her sad eyes lit at his words. “So what do we need to do here?”
“I’m going to question Carol, or Elliot – both of them if they’re here. Now, Hinto is following us, and if we need him to, he can create a diversion. But what we need to do here is get something of Chloe’s so we can make a finding spell for them as soon as the sun goes down.”
Sarae got out slowly. Remy followed, straightening his suit jacket. He took his credentials out of his chest pocket and tucked them in his hand. He didn’t trust Missouri people. If he reached for his pocket in front of one of these white people, they tended to freak out. He’d heard of too many cases where a brother was shot to death simply for doing something that some scared white cracker deemed “suspicious.”
They went up to the wide front porch with no chairs and rang the doorbell. Golden chimes rippled in the house.
Sarae, uncomfortable, looked around her, easing back from the door.
“Relax,” Remy murmured. “I’ve got this.”
Sarae wore her hair up. He gazed a moment at the curves of her exposed neck. He wanted to step up to her back, gently wrap his arms around her, and kiss along those curves up into her hairline, kiss her neck until she had goosebumps. He wanted to press her body against his, feel her heat, feel her lean back against him, eyes closed, breathing hard ….
Just then the front door opened and a white woman glared out. She wore her hair in a pixie cut, had blue eyes, and most of her nose had been whittled away by some plastic surgeon.
“We don’t allow solicitors here,” the woman snapped. “If you don’t leave in three seconds I’m calling the police.” She held up an iPhone. Of course. Another Permit Patty ready to call the police on a black man who had the audacity to be alive in her presence.
Remy had his credentials in his hand. He raised up the open wallet and showed them. “Remy Leveau, FBI,” he said calmly.
The woman’s mouth dropped open, revealing aggressively white teeth. She went whiter than she already was, if that was possible.
“Carol, I’d like to take a moment and speak to you,” Remy said. “It’s regarding the missing girls.”
“There are no missing girls. If you’re playing a trick on me, I’ll call the police,” she snapped, looking them over suspiciously.
Remy turned his mirrored sunglasses on her, hoping she could appreciate how her nasty face looked in them. “You’re welcome to,” he said, “but when they find out you called them on a federal law enforcement official, it will go very badly for you. You need to understand that I won’t be responsible for what happens if you make that call.”
The woman looked on the verge of protesting, but seemed to think the better of it and put her phone down. “Come in,” she said, curt.
Sarae followed Remy into the large living room with the high ceiling and a curvy staircase like you’d see in movies, and a modern chandelier with crystal and rainbows. He wondered how much debt this house had hanging over it.
“There are no missing girls,” the woman said again as the outside door shut behind them, though the inside door stayed open. “If you’re here because Haley couldn’t keep her big mouth shut, then you’re sadly mistaken. That little monkey,” she said, looking straight at Remy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarae’s mouth drop open at the slur.
“What did you say?” Sarae said softly, her words cutting like a knife.
Carol simply ignored her. “That girl is always causing trouble. Our kids are fine. They went on a little trip to the lake. I’ll show you the pictures they sent to me yesterday.” she tapped on her phone and began scrolling. “You’ll see. They’re fine.”
People like Carol had souls like Voldemort, he’d determined, like a shriveled-up fetus lying behind the bench at the outskirts of heaven.
Remy said briskly, “We still need to ask questions. There was something else. A dead animal was found in the woods behind your cabin, with strange signs written onto the trees around its body.”
Carol waved him off. “Just stupid kids,” she said. “We did not do that, and you can’t say we did it. I’ll call the police.”
Remy pretended to look mildly surprised. “Why, Mrs. Miller, nobody is accusing you of anything. We have some other suspects in mind. But the animal and symbols were found in the same area where your girls were said to have disappeared, near your property. This is all connected to a larger case, ma’am.”
There. She calmed down. “Well, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Sarae said, “Sweet tea.” Whatever that was.
“A soft drink is fine,” Remy said. “It doesn’t matter what kind.”
She came back with a 7-Up for him and a glass of iced tea for Sarae. Remy settled into the couch, which was way too soft, and accidentally tipped close to Sarae. So much heat was coming off her. But maybe that was from him. He straightened up.
He desperately wanted … well, never mind what he wanted. What he needed to do was to find the girls, and find out who had killed and sacrificed the deer, and what those creatures in the woods were.
“This is a federal case,” Remy said as she put his 7-Up on the coffee table in front of him. “This links into a case w
ith larger import that we’ve been trying to chase down for a while, involving drugs.”
“Of course,” she agreed, sitting down across from them.
Actually he’d just read about this particular drug case last night before he’d gone to bed. But now, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if there wasn’t some connection between that one and this. But it wasn’t necessary to go into a great deal of detail … the smirk that eased its way onto Carol’s face told him what he needed to know.
“This drug case links into this one in several different ways,” Remy said. “It is not necessary to dig deeply into particulars, but the dead deer certainly matches the profile of these perpetrators, as something they have done in the past. The reason we are here,” he added, looking at Carol, “is that perhaps, before leaving on their trip, the girls might have crossed paths with one of these perpetrators.”
Now Carol looked concerned. “So you think my girls might be in danger?”
Something seemed off about the way Carol asked it. Remy got the distinct impression that she was not worried about the girls – she was more worried about herself.
“We’re interested in questioning the girls, to make sure they aren’t in danger from thugs,” he said.
Carol perked right up at that word, a smile flickering on her face.
He’d used that word on purpose. Those people were not hard to read at all.
“The girls are out of town,” Carol explained hastily. “I could talk to them if you need them.”
“Please contact them for us,” Remy said. “It would make our investigation go that much faster. And it would help keep suspicion off of your family, where it doesn’t belong.”
Carol looked dubious, but slowly nodded.
“Could you tell me what Chloe and Lauren were doing on the night of October 5th?”
“They wanted to go on a little road trip, the way these teenagers do. But Haley insisted that she come along with them. They were … well, they tricked Haley into thinking they weren’t going on the trip, that they were just going to stay at the cabin for the weekend. They left without her, and she got upset and called the police.”
Remy nodded. “But then there’s another odd part of the story. Haley also was calling in with reports of severed body parts. Do you know what might have brought that on?”
“Not at all,” Carol said, pretending to look shocked.
“Where were you when you got the news of the girls’ disappearance?”
“I was at work. Maybe Haley should have been at work, too, instead of spreading lies about me and my family.”
“Hm.” Remy thought a message to his owl. Hinto, can you get into a fight with Zoe for me now? We need a distraction. I’m up to my neck in this woman’s bullshit.
“You don’t know where Haley’s been spreading these lies,” Carol continued, adjusting the candy bowl on the table just so, even though it already looked fine. “Maybe she has a thing on social media. Who knows what she’s been saying about us on there?”
Hinto replied in Remy’s mind. I asked Zoe. We are going to get into a fight for you now.
Just then a screaming came from outside. Remy got to his feet, knowing what he was going to see.
A fighting ball of feathers fell on the porch outside, directly in front of the glass doors, as the two owls fought, wings pounding, talons ripping, feathers flying. The shrieks were like animals dying in pain. Even though Remy knew this was just a show, he felt as if his hair was going to fall out from fright.
The tiny screech owl sprang back from the great horned owl. Zoe flipped her wings upside down, spreading them wide like fans over her back as she poofed to twice her regular size.
“What is that?” screeched Carol. “Get those nasty birds off my property!”
As soon as her head turned away from him to look at the fracas outside the door, Remy brought his hand out of his pocket with a pinch of powder in it. He blew the powder over her.
At once Carol put her hand to her forehead. “One of you kids needs to shoo away those beasts. Oh, God.” She leaned hard against a small table, sagging as if unable to keep her feet.
“Mrs. Miller, are you all right?” Sarae asked.
“I … feel so woozy,” she said, all her hate gone.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Remy said. He opened the door and shooed off Hinto.
“Did our distraction work?” asked Hinto. Remy knew Carol couldn’t hear him.
“Get lost, you two,” Remy said pleasantly, shooing them.
“Good luck with that awful woman.” Hinto hissed through the door at Carol, then flew away, Zoe following.
“Sarae, can you get this woman some water?” Remy asked as Carol swayed on her feet, frowning, her eyes unfocused.
Carol didn’t even squawk. She flapped her hand toward the kitchen, and Sarae headed that way.
“Why don’t you sit down,” Remy suggested.
“Yes,” Carol said uncertainly. “Yes, maybe I had better sit down. What were those awful birds doing?” she asked as she flopped down in an armchair as if her limbs were made of spaghetti.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s possible that it’s a sign of some portent. Birds can be harbingers of the future, you know.”
“Harbingers? What the hell kind of word is that?” she muttered. “Where’d you learn those big words, going around speaking eloquently like that?”
Remy was glad of his mirrored shades. “I have access to the same education you did. Only mine was better. And here’s some water.” He added as Sarae came in with a tall glass of water.
Carol drank the water … and as soon as she did, her eyes crossed, and she began to sink back into the armchair. “Oh, help!” she said.
Remy grabbed the glass of water just in time to keep it from spilling.
“What happened?” asked Sarae, alarmed. “Mrs. Miller? Are you okay?”
But Carol’s eyes shut and her head flopped to the side. After a second, a snore buzzed from her nose.
Remy leaned over Sarae to whisper in her ear, placing his hands on her shoulders, breathing the smell of her hair and neck.
“It’s a lingering side effect of the powder,” Remy whispered into her ear. “The powder makes her woozy, but a glass of water finishes the job and knocks her out. We have fifteen minutes before she wakes up. Get some of Chloe’s hair. I’m going to see if there are any secret doors in this place. Go.”
Invectives
The first thing Sarae did was to run up the stairs, looking for what looked like Chloe’s room. She quickly found it – a messy, white-carpeted room with white curtains, soft green walls, and pictures of a Korean boy band all over the walls.
She rushed into the bathroom that adjoined the room. She found a hairbrush and pulled all the hair out of it in a big wad and stuffed it into her pocket. That was kind of weird, but that was also the cost of doing business.
So now she had Chloe’s hair. Sarae quickly looked around the room, wanting to search it. However, they had only fifteen minutes.
“Remy?” she called.
“Down here.” His voice came from the far end of the house.
Sarae followed his voice into the kitchen where a door in the back stood open to a basement.
She leaned inside. “I got the hair,” she called down the stairs.
“Good, good,” he said from below. “Come on down, I’m snooping.”
She came down the first couple of steps. “Shouldn’t I be keeping a lookout or something?”
“Maybe,” said Remy. “On the other hand, it’s important to grab an opportunity while you have it.”
She came down the steps and found him, mirrored sunglasses perched on his head, carefully peering over the walls around the finished basement with a small block of cheese in his hand.
“Do you want a bite?” he asked, looking up and down the walls as he held it out to her. “It’s Emmenthaler. Real nice Swiss cheese. Creamy. No holes.” He took a bite. “What is it with t
he people talking about their Swiss heritage here? It’s like some kind of cult.”
Just then a ghost floated up to Sarae. He was a middle-aged farmer from the 1920s wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt and bib overalls with a leather lanyard hanging from his watch pocket. Part of his arm had been crushed off, and a shapeless, wide-brimmed hat now sat too low on his crushed skull. She tried not to stare.
“I’ll have you know that my parents and all their relatives came over from Switzerland to live here,” the farmer said. “They settled this county after the Civil War. And it’s not a cult. It’s just our heritage.”
Sarae had noticed the heritage thing, but at that moment couldn’t help but wonder, in some part, if this was just another way to exclude people who didn’t have nice, white Swiss skin.
Remy held the block of cheese out to the dead farmer. “You want some?”
The ghost turned up his nose at it. “Naw. Papa’s cheese was the real thing. Can’t eat, anyway. I’m dead.”
“Can you help us?” Sarae asked. “Some girls disappeared and we’re trying to see if there’s any clue to their disappearance in this house.”
The farmer led them to the back of the room. “I’ve been here since nineteen hundred and twenty three,” he said. “Had an accident in the field. Tractor wheel hit a badger hole and flipped. These people now, they put these damn houses all over my old field. Waste of some damn good land.”
He drifted past Remy though the finished basement and went straight through the wall.
“We can’t go through a wall like you can,” Sarae reminded him.
The ghost came out of the wall. “You don’t say,” he said. “I forgot. Well, there’s a door ….” Part of his arm was gone but he still swept the bloody stump over the wall. “Here,” he said, tapping with the end of his exposed arm bones. “They open something here.”
Remy felt the wall, being careful not to touch the ghost. “I don’t see anything.”
”Our fifteen minutes are almost up. Carol wakes up in fifteen minutes,” Sarae explained to the ghost. “Sir, couldn’t you just tell us what’s in there?” Sarae was already heading toward the stairs, looking at her watch. Remy reluctantly followed.
In the Midnight Hour Page 9