My gaze snaps over to him. “Are you serious?”
“What other choice do I have?” he says, clenching his jaw. “If I don’t go to the police with what I do know…and that video goes out, it’ll be too late. It’ll be framed however this asshat wants to frame it. Then, nothing will matter. The police—or anyone else, for that matter—won’t believe a word I have to say. My only chance is to turn over what I know before it bites me in the ass.”
My lips snap shut and a stab of guilt sweeps through me. His words bring me right back to my own inner dilemma with what happened with Colton. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am, that’s for sure.
“All right,” I say, driving past the turn to Blackwood Manor and heading into town. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Wade inhales sharply, reaching for my hand. “So do I.”
We drive the next few minutes in silence; neither one of us wanting to convince the other of a different plan. As much as I hate to admit it, this feels right. If Wade can get to the police first, telling them what he knows, he stands a chance. Maybe we could completely disarm the situation.
As we reach the edge of town, my back begins to tighten and I find myself sitting up straighter in the seat. “So, we’re almost there. Have you thought about what you want to say?”
Wade nods. “It’s all I’ve been doing since we left.”
“Good. What do you want me to do?” I say, turning down Main Street and heading to the town square.
“Nothing. Let me do all the talking. Okay?” he says, running his hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to pull you into this at all, if I can help it. Deal?”
“But—”
“Promise me,” Wade says, cutting me off. His eyes plead with mine.
I nod. “Okay.”
My pulse quickens as I pull up to the police station, parking in one of the diagonal spaces right outside the front entrance. The visitor parking is practically vacant, but there are six police cars lined up around the corner. For such a small town, it seems a little like overkill at the precinct.
“Wonder why there are so many cop cars,” I mutter, putting Blue into park.
Wade’s eyebrows tug inward as his gaze sweeps over them. “Let’s hope the fact that they’re here is good news. It means there isn’t reason to be out and about.”
I nod, kicking open my door. “Good point.”
Opening his own door, Wade follows me. When we reach the sidewalk, he steps out in front, making sure he’s first to the door. He pulls it back, allowing me to head inside first. As soon as the door closes, he takes the lead again, walking up to the glass-enclosed front desk.
A woman with dark skin and big brown eyes looks up. She’s barely older than we are, but she holds her shoulders back in an air of authority as we both approach. Her name badge reads “Thompson.”
“May I help you?” Officer Thompson asks, her voice soft and almost musical.
Wade swallows hard, tipping his chin. “Yeah, uh—is Sheriff Gordon here, by chance?”
“He is. Can I tell him who’s asking?” she says, her dark eyebrows barely moving.
Clearing his throat, Wade reaches for my hand and says, “Wade. Wade Hoffman. I’m a friend of his cousin, Chelsea Gordon.”
Recognition flashes through the officer’s eyes and she nods. “Okay, Mr. Hoffman, have a seat. Sheriff Gordon will come get you.”
“Thanks,” Wade says, twisting around and eyeing the seating.
There are two sections, each with four chairs that have been clamped together. There are no tables or magazines to preoccupy those who take a seat. Instead, they all just face each other in a sort of seated standoff.
“I forgot about Sheriff Gordon being related to your landlord. That was a good call,” I say, leaning in and whispering in Wade’s ear.
Wade feigns a smile. “Yeah, I figured if nothing else, I’d have a little bit of leverage by talking to him. At least Chelsea knows me. You know?”
My insides clench and I try to suppress the irrational welling of jealousy springing up from her name. She’s been nothing but nice, but I can’t help but feel a little pang of possessiveness.
“Mr. Hoffman?” a man says, extending a hand as he enters the lobby. He has the same ginger hair and green eyes as his cousin and it’s easy to see the family resemblance.
Wade immediately stands up. “Yes, hi.“
“What can I help you with?” Sheriff Gordon says. His eyes crease at their edges, immediately disarming any apprehension lingering in me. Another trait he shares with his cousin.
“I—uh,” Wade begins. “Is there anywhere we could talk privately?”
Sheriff Gordon quirks an eyebrow. His lips tug downward as he nods. “Sure, follow me.” He turns on his heel, flashes a badge that opens the door he came through, and holds it open so we can follow behind him.
Wade reaches for my hand, and together we follow after the sheriff to a small conference room down the hall. Sheriff Gordon steps inside, standing beside the door until we both walk in and take a seat at the small table. Without a word, he quietly clicks it shut and sits down opposite us.
Again, he flashes a grin and extends his hand to me. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Autumn Blackwood,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Ah, yes,” he nods. “Lyle’s girl. I thought you looked familiar. Been awhile. Are you back in town now?”
I narrow my gaze, trying to process. “I—yes, actually. I’m going to school at Windhaven Academy.”
His eyebrows rise into his hairline, but he nods absently. “Certain amount of sense to that.”
I press my lips together and tap the top of the table with my fingertips.
“So,” Sheriff Gordon says, turning back to Wade, “What can I do for you?”
Wade’s nostrils flare as he breathes in deeply. “I have a confession to make.”
The sheriff’s eyes widen, and his jaw hardens. He looks over his shoulder at the mirror behind him and pulls his chair in tighter to the table. “Before we go much further, do you mind if I record this?” he says, pulling out a small voice recorder from his breast pocket and placing it on the table between them.
Wade doesn’t say anything, but he shakes his head.
Sheriff Gordon tips his head. “All right, what kind of confession are we talking here?”
Clasping his hands together, Wade drops his gaze to his fingers. An awkward pause follows, and he licks his lower lip. “I know what happened at Mistwood Point Cemetery last week. I know I should have come forward sooner. It’s just—”
“Okay, hold up,” Sheriff Gordon says, holding a hand out. “Are you saying you were there?”
“Yeah, I was there,” Wade says, refusing to look my direction.
The desire to speak up and say I was, too, almost bowls me over. Wade must sense it, because he taps his foot against mine. Clamping my lips shut, I focus on watching the two men’s reactions.
“All right, go on,” the sheriff says.
“The cemetery director called and let me know my grandfather’s columbarium was fixed, so I went to have a look. I wanted to make sure things were restored to the way they were before,” Wade says, swallowing hard. “Especially since his ashes haven’t been…”
The sheriff holds very still, watching every movement Wade makes like he’s waiting for something that will tell him whether or not to pounce.
“When I was there,” Wade continues, his tongue skating across his lower lip as he shoots me a quick sideways glance, “I was attacked.”
This was clearly not the confession the sheriff was expecting, as his eyebrows arch high. “You were attacked? Why didn’t you report anything?”
Wade scratches at the back of his head. “I was afraid. I knew how things looked, and people at Windhaven Academy were already assuming I was involved with the desecration earlier because one of the graves that was vandalized was my grandfather’s. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to m
yself if I could help it.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrow, but he nods. “All right, continue. Who attacked you?”
Wade casts a super-fast glance in my direction and says, “The dead did.”
Sheriff Gordon’s green eyes flash. “Excuse me?”
“The graves that were robbed—I don’t think it’s a prank. I think someone is raising the dead,” Wade reiterates.
“Is that a thing now?” Sheriff Gordon says, scratching at his chin. “Zombies?”
“Revenants, actually,” I say, unable to help myself.
The sheriff’s gaze flits to me. “I’ve been around a long time and I’ve seen some weird things in this town thanks to the supers…but zombies? Now, that’s new.”
“Revenants,” I repeat.
“Right, revenants,” he nods. “Well, see, here’s the thing. We’ve had another five or so graves desecrated over the course of the past week. I haven’t checked in with the Mistwood PD, but I’ll wager they’d be real interested to hear your story, Mr. Hoffman.”
Relief flashes through Wade’s features and he leans back in his chair. “You—you believe me?”
Sheriff Gordon mimics Wade’s position, shifting back into his chair. “I’m not sure what in the hell I believe at the moment. But what I do know is this... We’ve had almost a dozen graves desecrated over the past few weeks and all of them are from folks who were recently deceased. It’s turning into a circus as we try to calm down their next of kin. To top it all off, I’ve had not one, but two accounts from citizens saying they’ve seen the dead wandering the streets. We’ve had to take two of them down because they were terrorizing anyone in their path. So, I’m a tad inclined to follow up on your story here. Especially since it would mean there could be more out there.”
Wade’s eyelashes flutter and his mouth drops open. “Others have seen them?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” he says, lowering his eyebrows.
“That’s actually kind of a relief. I was beginning to feel like they were being sent after me,” Wade says, dropping his gaze to the table.
“Now, why would you think that?” The sheriff asks, leaning in again.
Wade shakes his head. “No reason, I guess. It just sorta felt that way when it was my grandpa’s columbarium that was desecrated—and then to have the revenants come after me when I was out there.”
I bite my lip, settling my gaze on my hands. The fact that his dead grandpa is locked in the boathouse, when he should be nothing but ashes, hasn’t been mentioned.
“Well, I think it’s safe to say this isn’t about you, Mr. Hoffman. But I’d sure appreciate any insights you might have about this. Now, you said the dead attacked you. Do you remember anything specific about it? Or who they were?”
“There were two of them and they sorta just came out of nowhere,” Wade says, his gaze softening as he tries to remember. “I was just there and it was like they were drawn to me. I ran, trying to find someplace where I could find safety, but there wasn’t anything. But the revenants…” Wade takes a deep breath, shivering.
“Yes?” The sheriff urges.
Wade’s silver eyes flick upward and land on the sheriff’s freckled face. “They were relentless.”
“How do you mean?” he asks, narrowing his gaze.
“They wouldn’t stop coming and they were fast. Way faster than I expected from watching TV.”
The sheriff nods. “Television is usually a load of crap. At least, that’s almost always the case. So, tell me, what happened next? You’re obviously still here. How did you stop them?”
“The first one took me down to the ground. I stopped it by shoving a wreath stand through his—” Wade holds up a finger, pointing to the location beneath his jaw. He shudders again. “So, at least ‘The Walking Dead’ was right about that one.”
Sheriff Gordon nods, but his expression has turned stone cold. “And the other one?”
“It was crawling on the ground and I managed to topple a headstone over. The weight crushed it.”
“I see,” he says, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “From what I gather, the bodies were disintegrating when they were discovered. Any idea how that could have happened?”
Wade shakes his head. “No, not really. I mean, whatever magic animated them in the first place must have been negated because that did happen quickly when we—I mean, when I was still there.”
I can’t help but inhale sharply at the slip, but I cover my nose, acting like I have to sneeze. Wade’s eyes widen, but he refuses to look my direction.
“That must have been very difficult for you. You didn’t know either of them, you know, personally…did you?”
“No, sir. Neither one.”
The sheriff’s chin tips upward and he rubs at the spot just under his bottom lip. “Now, I’m not a super, but I’ve worked with plenty. I don’t suppose you happen to know of anyone with the kind of power it takes to do something like this? Resurrect the dead and reanimate them?”
Wade’s lips tug downward as he shakes his head slightly. “No, I’m new in town.”
“Okay, I think you said that, didn’t you? Now, we’ve got a special investigator coming in who handles this sort of thing. Or so I’m told. People higher up the pay grade than myself seem to think there’s only a couple of different types of supers who have the ability to pull this off.”
My eyes widen and I sit up straighter.
“Now, I’m not sure how many people we have in the town with the ability, but we do have Windhaven Academy working with us to narrow down the list as we speak,” the sheriff says nonchalantly. “What kind of abilities do you possess, Mr. Hoffman, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Wade’s nostrils flare with his tense inhalation. “None. At least, none as of yet. The abilities in my family are latent, but I was told it didn’t matter to the academy.”
“I see,” he says, tipping his head. “And what kind of powers would they be? You know, if they were active…”
“They’re more psychic in nature,” he says softly, refusing to look my way. “I’d be able to sense certain energies.”
I raise my eyebrows. That’s more information about his powers than I’ve gotten.
Is that why he and Dominic seem to clash?
“Yeah, that’s not quite the sort of powers we’re looking for—from what I’m told. We need someone with ties to heavier elemental magic. Necromancy, earth or water magic, that sort of thing.” Narrowing his eyes, Sheriff Gordon’s discerning gaze suddenly lands squarely on me. “And what kind of abilities do you have, Ms. Blackwood?”
Chapter 15
All Eyes Are On
The last thing I expected when we went into the Windhaven PD was to divert suspicion from Wade by drawing their attention to me. Now that Sheriff Gordon knows I’m the town’s only necromancer, the likelihood of this going away anytime soon is pretty much nonexistent. Plus, if they decide to do just a little bit of digging and find out that we have Wade’s dead grandpa locked up in my boathouse, there’s going to be hell to pay.
And, if that wasn’t enough, the entire school is giving me a wide berth now, too. I know exactly how Wade was feeling the first few weeks of school.
“This sucks,” I blurt out, taking a seat in the commons area beside Wade. I lean forward, placing my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I’m a suspect.”
Wade shifts out of the lounge chair beside me and places a hand on my back. “Person of interest—don’t get excited now.”
I shoot him a sideways glance and cover my face again with my hands.
He chuckles under his breath. “Don’t worry, Autumn. It’ll get sorted out.“
I look up, cutting him off with my expression. “Just a couple of days ago, you said I was nuts for having faith in things getting sorted out. Now that roles are reversed…”
“Now that roles are reversed, I know it’s true. Neither one of us will stop until we figure out who’s really behind this. Besides, I’m not out of the wat
er yet. If that video goes public, I’m sure I’ll be back in the central ring of rumors, no matter what Sheriff Gordon thinks. The only good news is that the feds are supposed to be here today. The sooner they get started, the sooner they’ll realize neither one of us had anything to do with this,” Wade says, crouching down beside me and pulling my hands into his.
His eyes plead with mine, and I can’t help but sigh.
“Wade, you didn’t even tell Sheriff Gordon I was with you in the cemetery. If they find out, and think we kept it from them, they’ll think I was trying to hide it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes to the ceiling.
“Trying to hide what?” Cat asks, practically bouncing in from the hallway.
I narrow my gaze and quirk an eyebrow. “Why are you so happy?”
“I’ve had a lovely day, thank you for asking. I’ve been holed up in my room, working on some missing assignments and thank the Lord, it’s helped. My grades are finally pulling back up and I feel more like myself than I have in ages,” she says, smiling broadly. Plopping down into a seat across from us, her dark eyes flit from me to Wade and back again. “So, what’s up with you, Ms. Gloomypants?”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Haven’t you heard already? I don’t even know where to start.”
Standing up, she plants herself down on the armrest of my chair and chuckles. “At the beginning. I feel like it’s been forever since we chatted. I’m totally lost.”
“That makes two of us,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s so much…”
“Actually, this isn’t really the best place to talk about things,” Wade says, keeping his tone low. His eyes dart around the commons, landing on a small group of people in the corner who are huddled together. Every few moments, one of them looks in our direction, then returns to their group.
“Wonderful,” I say, slumping back into the chair.
“Seriously, guys…what am I missing?” Cat asks, concern now sweeping her features.
“Autumn’s a person of interest in the grave desecrations,” Wade says in such a hushed tone I’m surprised Cat can even hear him.
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