Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels (A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Book 3)

by Chase Connor

  “I done told you we don’t know who she is, Wesley!” Oma turned sharply in her chair to growl at him. “Stop pokin’ your damn head in here and asking every five minutes.”

  Lucas and I glanced at each other.

  “You got a dead naked lady in your backyard, Esther Jean Wagner.” He grumbled back. “You ought not act so rude to me.”

  “Unless you’re gonna charge me with murder or interfering with your investigation, get your damn head back outside.” Oma wasn’t bothered one bit. “You’re letting all the damn stank out.”

  My nose turned up of its own accord as Lucas snorted into his coffee mug. Sheriff Dennard squinty-glanced at Lucas, then snarled at Oma before he pulled his head back and closed the door.

  “Bastard.” Oma spat as she turned around in her seat to reach for her coffee mug again.

  “I heard that Esther Jean!” Sheriff Dennard hollered from outside.

  “I hope to hell you did!” She shot back over her shoulder. “Didn’t exactly whisper it did I?”

  “Oma.” I reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “Well, I’m older than his damn parents.” She looked at me. “He can go take a running leap off—”

  “Just stop.” I shook my head at her as Lucas snorted again.

  Shooting a reproachful, though amused glance at my boyfriend, I was glad to see that he had the common sense to look at least a little bit chastened. Though Lucas realized laughing at a situation such as the one we found ourselves in was inappropriate, Oma seemed to be taking everything in stride. She was so unbothered by everything going on that I had to wonder if there had been other incidents in the past where she had to explain dead bodies on her lawn to the police. In slightly more than a quarter-century of living, I hadn’t had a single run in the with the police. At least not in a way that I would have been questioned.

  Police often provided security at film premieres, film festivals, at Hollywood events, or even private parties. However, I’d never had to sit in a kitchen and pretend that nothing was wrong while a dead body was dealt with a few yards away. Considering the fact that I was pretty sure that I knew how the woman had been burned on one half of her body made me uneasy. I found myself stuck between pretending I knew nothing and was completely innocent and confessing to Sheriff Dennard that I shot fire out of my hand while the woman was in wolf form and burned her all to Hell. Of course, the only thing a confession such as that would lead to was me in a “Me Time” jacket in a padded room where I would be watched through one-way glass. Additionally, I hadn’t been honest with Lucas about the night before, nor had I mentioned anything to Oma about the incident.

  All around, and in every way, I was what the kids referred to as “fucked.”

  Whether I liked it or not, whether or not my conscious was happy with the decision, I had no choice but to sit and be Robert Wagner, innocent and normal. Sheriff Dennard hadn’t asked much about Lucas and me when he first arrived on the scene, and it was evident that he was well-acquainted with Oma. Of course, if memory served, Oma had fired a shotgun at the Kelly kids once for sneaking into her yard, so even if Sheriff Dennard hadn’t been from Point Worth, he knew of her. Also, I remembered that Jackson Barkley, Lucas’s grandfather, who owned the hardware store, had said that Sheriff Dennard had been the one to deal with the case of the old lady and the shotgun.

  Regardless, due to his familiarity with Oma, and probably Lucas, Sheriff Dennard didn’t ask us many questions. Being Oma’s grandson probably made him a little suspicious of me, but at least I qualified as a “local.” That got me excused from a lot of initial questions. The fact that I was trying to rein Oma’s mouth in probably won me brownie points with the Sheriff, as well. Of course, once the woman’s body was gone, I didn’t doubt that Sheriff Dennard would have follow-up questions. If I could get through the day without being outed as “Jacob Michaels,” I would go to bed shocked.

  “Ya’ think they’ll take much longer?” Oma sighed.

  “They’ll take as long as it takes, Oma.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” Lucas added.

  “Well,” Oma grumbled, “I was thinking about doing some planting today. Ground ain’t gonna freeze back, the ground’s nice and soft, it would have been a perfect day. Come afternoon, the sun’s supposed to be high in the sky, and I thought—”

  “Do you think they can figure out who she is?” I interjected, suddenly nervous as I saw two people—coroner employees, maybe?—lifting a gurney with a filled body bag. “She obviously didn’t have ID on her, and it was kind of hard to make out a lot of her face.”

  “I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” Lucas patted my hand, reluctant to actually hold it with all of the police around. “Surely, someone will report someone missing, two-and-two will get put together, and they’ll find out who she is. Then maybe they can figure out what happened to her.”

  “Great.” I swallowed.

  “Probably a meth-head.” Oma clucked her tongue.

  “What?” I frowned at her.

  “Burned all over.” She shrugged. “Been a lot of them places been blowin’ up, catchin’ on fire. Hell, watch the news any night of the week and, well, them idiots just don’t know when God is tryin’ to tell them somethin’.”

  “Oma.” I shook my head.

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ bad about her for fuck’s sake.” Oma rolled her eyes and waggled her head. “Just sayin’ that this is probably something innocuous like that. I doubt anyone went and set her on fire is all’s I’m sayin’. Poor thing probably just didn’t have enough sense and done did the wrong thing, and—”

  “Mrs. Wagner.” Lucas shook his head at her when he saw my expression.

  “I ain’t meaning to upset ya’ none, Robbie.” Oma reached over to pat my hand. “I know ya’ been away for a minute. The Midwest is littered with them meth-houses. It’s a disease…well, maybe a cancer. It’s been spreading.”

  “Let’s just…let’s not talk about it.”

  Oma shrugged. Lucas patted my hand again. I felt guiltier than I had before. If this woman got labeled as some junkie when that wasn’t the case at all, I’d never have forgiven myself, even if she had tried to attack me while in wolf form. If that was what happened at all. Maybe I really was in a mental hospital somewhere half out of my mind, waiting for some drugs or therapy to do their job. All things considered, I didn’t know if I was crazier for wanting to confess to the previous night’s events or because I didn’t doubt that those things happened.

  “All right.” Sheriff Dennard coming in through the backdoor once again, looking official and concerned snapped me out of my reverie. “They’re going to take her away, Esther Jean. Your plans to get out in the garden won’t be completely ruined.”

  “Stuff it, Dennard.”

  “Mrs. Wagner.” Lucas couldn’t help but grin.

  Sheriff Dennard wasn’t amused.

  “Esther Jean…”

  “Yes, Wesley?” She waggled her head.

  That was fair. Sheriff Dennard hadn’t shown proper respect to an older lady of the community by calling her “Mrs. Wagner” or “ma’am,” so why the hell should Oma have to use his title?

  “I’m the Sheriff of this county.”

  “I’m the owner of this house.” Oma started to stand, but I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into her seat. Of course, that didn’t slow her mouth. “And I ain’t got nothin’ to do with Miss Naked as a Jay Bird out there, anyway.”

  “Oh, calm down.” Sheriff Dennard waved her off. “I didn’t say nothin’ about this even being anyone’s fault.”

  “Damn right you didn’t.” Oma nodded once. “And you better not, either.”

  “I don’t think none of y’all hurt her.” He grumbled. “I wouldn’t be standing here being nice if I thought y’all were responsible for what happened to her.”

  Regardless of how it made me morally feel, Sheriff Dennard’s statement made me feel physically relieved.
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br />   “But you know that there might be more questions later on.” He reached into his breast pocket for a small notebook and a pen. “I know she just stumbled up into the yard looking like that and then…Robert?...you eased her to the ground and she just…well, she died.”

  He was reading from the notes he’d made in his little notebook when he had first arrived and asked what happened.

  “Yessir.” I nodded. “She wasn’t alive long after she came into the yard.”

  Oma threw her hands up in a “are we done now?” fashion.

  “And, Lucas?” Sheriff Dennard glanced up at him. “You came running up after?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Esther Jean, you were cowering on the steps of the backdoor here?”

  “Look here, Wesley—”

  “The…woman…frightened Oma, I guess from sneaking up behind her like that, Sheriff Dennard,” I interjected to avoid another round of fighting. “Lucas and I were coming back from a walk by the lake when I saw the woman stumbling up to Oma. I ran up to help Oma—obviously, the woman being naked and stumbling around wasn’t exactly normal—and then when I pulled the woman away, saw her condition, and eased her to the ground when she collapsed, she just…died.”

  “All right.” He shrugged.

  “Jesus.” Oma huffed.

  Sheriff Dennard shot her a look. “What were y’all doing walking down by the lake?”

  Lucas and I glanced at each other.

  “Walking?” Lucas frowned at Sheriff Dennard.

  “It’s a way to get exercise, Wesley.” Oma snorted. “Maybe try it.”

  My grandmother gave the Sheriff’s waistline a long stare.

  “Oma.” I scolded her. “Be nice. You’re like a toddler.”

  She shrugged at me.

  Sheriff Dennard pointed his finger at me. “I like you, Robert.” Then his finger went to Oma. “But you are walkin’ on thin ice, Esther Jean.”

  “Callin’ a cop tubbly in your own home ain’t a crime.” She laughed. “You gonna haul me in and tell ‘em to book me for hurtin’ your feelin’s?”

  Lucas snorted again.

  Sheriff Dennard glared at him.

  Great.

  Two of us were now on The Shit List.

  For what seemed like forever, Sheriff Dennard glared at Oma and Lucas, as though he were trying to figure out some misdemeanor—or even felony—with which he could charge them. Oma glared back, and Lucas averted his eyes. The whole time, all I could think about was that this was all so unnecessary. Even if I confessed to what I thought happened, it would do no good, and the woman would still be dead. Oma and Sheriff Dennard having a pissing contest wasn’t fixing anything, either. Finally, I cleared my throat to break their concentration on each other.

  “Sheriff Dennard?” I asked. “Do you think you can figure out who she is? Was?”

  He finally looked over at me. “Eventually we will, Robert.”

  “Good.”

  “Esther Jean.” He snapped at her. “Don’t you put a toe out of line.”

  She flipped him off.

  “No wonder everyone hates you.” He snarled, then looked at me. “Robert, take a walk with me.”

  Sheriff Dennard turned on his heels and headed towards the backdoor. I glanced at Oma and Lucas, both of them looking concerned, but I rose from my seat and followed Sheriff Dennard to the backdoor. He opened the door and eased down the steps—Oma wasn’t wrong, he was a larger man, though that was no reason to be mean to him—and I followed after, a little more athletic in my descent. Together, we watched the rest of the Sheriff’s office employees disperse, giving half-hearted waves and salutes at us as they vacated Oma’s backyard. Finally, once we were alone—but not walking, obviously—Sheriff Dennard turned to me.

  “Look,” He said, “this lady that died in your grandma’ yard had obviously been burned all to hell.”

  I swallowed hard, my eye twitching slightly as I looked at the Sheriff in his very scary uniform and scarier handcuffs and absolutely terrifying weapons belt. Was he about to arrest me?

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t drug related.” He continued, making the knot in my stomach loosen slightly. “These damn meth labs are blowing up all the damn time.”

  “Oma said something about that.” I gave a neutral response.

  “Well, she was right about something. Imagine that.” He rolled his eyes. “Now, I ain’t seen or heard nothin’ around here about a meth lab. We don’t have much of a problem in Point Worth. Yet. But it’s always inevitable, isn’t it? Those types of things tend to find their way into every small town eventually. Even idyllic ones like Point Worth.”

  Idyllic? I was going to keep my opinions to myself as to avoid getting pretty new bracelets put on me.

  “But, regardless of the hate I have for your grandmother,” He continued, “I’m glad she has you and Lucas around. When something like this happens, it just keeps on happening. If the wrong sort is movin’ into Point Worth, we need to start watching out for each other. You make sure to watch for any strange people around your grandma’s property, Robert.”

  “Of course.” I nodded.

  I wanted to tell the Sheriff that only a crazy person would attempt to cross Oma. She did shoot a shotgun at teenagers, after all. Of course, bringing that up to the Sheriff was probably a poor choice, so I just kept my answers short when needed and my mouth shut otherwise.

  “You see anything else odd and you call me right away.” He gave me a stern look, his fingers hooking into the belt below his pudge. “If we got the druggies movin’ in, I want to get on top of it and get ‘em out of here just as quick as they came. They can go be Toledo’s or Cincinnati’s problem. Or, add to their problem, I guess.”

  “Yessir.”

  “You grew up around here, didn’t you?” He asked suddenly.

  “Um, yeah.” I nodded. “In this house. I lived here until I was sixteen.”

  “You took off a while back, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Now you’re back.”

  “Yessir.”

  “You find all the fame and fortune you needed?” He gave me a knowing look.

  Sheriff Dennard wasn’t nearly as ignorant as Oma had portrayed him to be or as simple as his “Good Ole Boy” persona painted him. Eyeing Sheriff Dennard for a moment, I didn’t know how much I wanted to get into my other life with him.

  “The illusion is fleeting.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m sure you’re glad to be back.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Would you, uh…” He was reaching into his pocket for his notepad again, then flipping to find a blank page.

  “Yeah.” I shook my head, trying to affect an affable personality. “Sure. Of course.”

  “My wife,” He cleared his throat, “she loves your movies, see?”

  “Of course.” I shook my head as though this was the most common thing to happen to me recently. Of course, being recognized as Jacob Michaels was the most common thing that had happened to me recently. “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “Sarah Jean.” He smiled broadly as I wrote out a little note and signed “Jacob Michaels” on a blank page of his pad. “We went and saw one of your concerts down in Chicago…gosh, three years ago, I think it was.”

  I nodded, still smiling as I handed his notepad back to him. That was the thing about Midwesterners. Everything was “down there”—even if “down there” happened to be in a western direction.

  “Yeah.” I agreed, as though I remembered the show he was talking about in his previous statement. “It was a great show; great crowd, of course.”

  Of course, I didn’t remember playing Chicago three years prior since I had played Chicago at least two dozen times throughout my music career. However, it was always best, in my experience, to just go along with the things people said about seeing a movie or show.

  “Down there at Millennium Park.” He continued to smile as he inspected the autograph I had provide
d. “Hate Chicago. Too busy, crowded, loud—but it was a good show, Robert. Or should I say ‘Jacob’?”

  He chuckled at his cleverness.

  “Rob’s fine,” I repeated my mantra.

  “You’ve lost some weight, haven’t ya’?”

  “Yeah,” I said automatically. “But Oma’s helping me put it back on.”

  “Well,” He reached out to slap me on the shoulder, “that’s what grandmas are for, right? Even hateful, old, mean ones like yours, I suppose.”

  “Yessir.” I smiled jovially, though I was not amused.

  “Would you mind if…” He was reaching for his phone.

  “Sure.” I was flustered but managed to keep smiling. “How else will Sarah Jean believe you, right?”

  He laughed at that. Sheriff Dennard moved into my personal space, put his head next to mine, then snapped a selfie of the two of us smiling into the camera. Of course, I probably still had bedhead, my hair wasn’t styled, I was without my trademark beard…maybe Sarah Jean wouldn’t believe he had met Jacob Michaels, regardless of the picture and autograph.

  “Well, I thank you, Rob.” He slid his phone back into his pocket after inspecting the picture quickly. “Sarah Jean will be beside herself.”

  “I’m sure.” I smiled. “I’m glad I could get you husband points.”

  He laughed at that and slapped me on the shoulder again.

  “All right.” He made a move to walk away. “But you don’t forget to let me know if you see anything else weird, ya’ hear?”

  “Of course,” I replied. “If any more naked people stumble into the yard, you’ll be the first to know after us.”

  I gave him a jaunty salute, which made him laugh all the way across the backyard and around the side of Oma’s house. As soon as he was out of view, I let the smile disappear from my face and slogged back up the stairs into Oma’s kitchen. She was at the window over the sink with Lucas, having just watched the entire display between myself and Sheriff Dennard in the backyard.

  “Surprised the tubbly bastard didn’t ask for one of your old t-shirts.” Oma snorted as soon as I was inside. “Of all the unprofessional things!”