Devils Among Us (Devin Dushane Series Book 1)

by Chastity Harris

  “I hope you like spending eternity in a dark, dank dungeon my dear! Mwahahaha!”

  Devin wrinkled up her nose. “Not quite right. Your sinister laugh needs work.”

  Shane cocked his head to one side pondering it, “Yeah, you’re right. It needs something.” His smile sparkled out through his crystal blue eyes, and cobwebs decorated his hair. “Seriously though, watch your step. You’ll break your neck on that thing they call a staircase.”

  He had set up two milk crates for them to sit on and had all the boxes pulled out and ready under the room’s single hanging lightbulb.

  “And here I thought Richmond had cornered the market on creepiness, but no, no, Fenton has its own little pit of nastiness.”

  Shane’s face lit up. “Oh, do not tell me that Miss Tough as Nails, raised in the streets, is scared of cellars?”

  “No, I am not scared of cellars. I dislike dark slimy corners where I can’t see what might be coming at me. Cellars just seem to have a plethora of those.”

  Shane was still glowing. “I can’t believe it. The chink in the armor, the Achilles tendon, the—”

  “—kick in the groin.”

  “Got it. Let’s get to work. The boxes on the left are the earlier years of his career, but these four boxes are all from 1960–1965 and are loaded with material.”

  Devin slid the top off the box closest to her and let a low whistle. “Your uncle Bailor was a busy man.”

  Shane grinned. “It was a good time to be making hooch.”

  At first everything they found was ‘look at this!’ and ‘what do you think of this’. But they quickly realized at that pace they would be there all day. So instead when they found a particularly interesting case they wrote out the name and date and set the file to one side. After two dusty hours, they each had a dozen or more interesting cases and at least forty names between them of local boys or families that had been affiliated in some way.

  Devin tossed down her pen in irritation and stretched her arms. “I think all we’re going to get out of this work is the smell of musty boxes in our hair.” She drew her ponytail across her nose for a whiff and grimaced tossing it away again. “This suspect pool is just too broad.”

  Shane rubbed the bridge of his nose and blinked his eyes a few times. “I know what you mean. I haven’t found anything spectacular that stands out as a reason to kill somebody, but I suspect that caffeine withdrawal might be a good reason. Do you want something to drink?”

  “A drink might make me slightly less crabby.”

  “Maybe you should come out of this hole and see the light of day too.”

  She shook her head and pulled the last box towards her. “No, I want to get this over with, so I’m going to push through and keep digging.”

  Shane jogged up the stairs as quickly as he dared, and Devin began flipping through the files again.

  Isn’t there just one interesting looking piece I could start with in this box? Actually, there was. About a third of the way back was a thick, dark brown accordion-style folder. The two-inch thick folder had a standard manila file tied to it with string, and the file was marked “Hank James Maddox.”

  Some people might have savored the moment, letting the anticipation build, fearful of what they might find. Others might remove the string with shaking hands. Devin was not any of those people. She yanked the string away so quickly it had almost disintegrated by the time she had the file open and was reading over the first document. It contained all the paperwork on how Henry had been flipped as informant on the moonshine business. There were word-for-word records of conversations, photos of stills and hot rods, notes from the detectives, and signed deals from the Commonwealth’s Attorney. There was one thing missing—the name of the sixth driver, the one Henry had referred to as ‘the new kid’. All of the other suspects were listed by name, but anywhere the name of the sixth driver appeared it had been blacked out.

  Shane returned with their drinks scurrying down the steps as if he were on the open face of a cliff. “Whew! I made it through the treacherous journey to bring us parched souls down in the catacombs a cool beverage.” When she didn’t respond he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was engrossed in. “That looks like the letters my granddaddy would send home from the South Pacific during the war. The Army screened all the letters to make sure no bit of information that could give away position or secrets got out and would mark through those sections with a black marker. What is that?”

  “It’s a file on Henry. Was your Uncle, Henry’s handler?”

  “No. He would have worked on the bust and crossed paths with him, but he was not a handler for informants.” Shane crouched next to her for a better look. “Can you tell what information is blacked out?”

  “Yeah, the name of the last moonshine driver. Anything to do with him or her has been completely blocked out—name, age, address, vehicle you name it.” Devin handed one of the papers over to Shane for a closer look, but he took it without seeing.

  “Her? You think Laney could’ve been the last driver?”

  “Maybe. We know she had the driving ability, and if she had been doing moonshine runs already, Henry would have brought her in on this just to keep her close by and safe that night.”

  Shane’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities. “Whoever she drove for on a regular basis may not have liked her doing freelance work.”

  Devin was nodding along. “It’s possible. But jealousy is a strong motive too. Dean told me he had argued with Laney earlier in the evening when she refused to be the getaway driver in his little robbery scheme. If he found out she was willing to break the law with Henry instead, he might have been angry enough to commit murder.”

  Devin and Shane looked down in silence at the file spread out before them. The damp air in the basement became heavier with everything they weren’t saying. If Laney had been the sixth driver, any evidence had been removed from the file. If her murder was related to the bust that night, it had been covered up.

  Both Devin and Shane jumped when a door slammed upstairs.

  “Ice-cool law professionals we are.” Devin mumbled. Shane gave her a grin and held up an over exaggerated shaking hand to show his steadiness.

  There was a shuffling at the top of the basement steps and then a fluttery southern voice called down. “Shannon? Is that you?” Shane instantly turned a crimson so deep a sunburn would have looked pasty in comparison. Devin’s eyes went wide and she silently mouthed, “Shannon?” Shane bolted to the steps.

  “Yes, ma’am it’s me, Aunt Frannie. We’re almost done, and then we’ll be out of here real soon.”

  Apparently Aunt Frannie was in a hostessing mood. “Oh, honey, y’all take your time, no need to rush. Would you and your friend like a sandwich or a glass of tea?”

  Shane rolled his eyes complaining more to the basement floor than Devin. “Translation: Bring her up so I can get a look at her.” He directed his next comment up the stairs. “No, ma’am, we’re fine. I just got us some drinks.” It took a few more minutes of reassuring before Shane’s aunt believed that her guests were as comfortable as possible in the cellar. He returned to his milk crate, asking her for the first time “You’re not hungry, are you?”

  Devin studied him for a second, tempted to tell him she was faint with hunger. Then with a wicked grin. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Shann—”

  He cut her off with a murderous glare. “Don’t you dare.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line to repress her laughter, but her eyes were watering with the effort. He smirked at her as he stacked up the boxes they had finished with. “Oh, like your name is so much better! It sounds like a guy!”

  “Maybe we should switch, a guy’s name on a girl is cute, but a girl’s name for a guy just sounds wimpy.” She was snickering now as she dropped Henry’s file back into the box.

  “Haha, you’re hilarious. Why do you think I had it legally changed to Shane? I just can’t get the family to cooperate.” He rolled his eyes u
p to the ceiling.

  Devin glanced at her watch and cringed. “As much fun as it is hanging out in this dirt pit, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to speak to the Fenton Neighbors Club in an hour, and I’m obviously going to have to take a shower first.” She stood up and tried to brush the cobwebs off her clothes, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

  “What will you be talking to the old biddies about this evening?” Shane arched an eyebrow and gave her one of his altar boy smiles.

  She held up a threatening fist.

  “I will be speaking to these vibrant members of the community about safety when travelling into the city. They’re taking a bus trip to D.C. in a few months to see a show and do some shopping, and I’m going to give them tips on how to avoid unsafe situations, not get their purses stolen, that sort of thing.” She punctuated her sentence by sticking out her tongue again. “So, can I take this box home with me and finish going through it later tonight?”

  Shane studied her intently for a moment, then squinted his eyes in concentration and leaned towards her. Devin leaned away reflexively, about to ask him what he thought he was doing when Shane’s hand shot into her hair and pulled out something that was wiggling. He grinned and held it up for her to see.

  “You had a little friend hitchhiking along.”

  Devin leapt backwards shaking her hair out with both hands. “Ewww! This is why I hate cellars! Are there anymore?”

  “Please tell me that the cop that has been stabbed, shot and injured in every way possible in the line of duty, did not just squeal like a little girl because there was a granddaddy long leg in her hair?”

  “Oh, shut it! Spiders are just crawly, sneaky little creatures of the devil. Like you’d love it if it were crawling on you.” She was still running her hand through her hair. “So, can I take the box?”

  “No.”

  Devin’s warm brown eyes turned dark with irritation, and she huffed out an exasperated breath. She was about to tear into him for his lack of trust in her and his obvious doubtfulness in her competency as a detective. Deep down men were all chauvinist pigs.

  Shane cut her tirade off with a laugh. “You know, you’re really gorgeous when you’re furious. In like this angry supermodel way.”

  “How ’bout the, ‘I’m going to strangle you’ look. What’s that do for you?”

  He just grinned. “I meant no, you can’t take the box, because I’ll bring it over with a pizza later tonight for the two of us to go through it together.”

  Devin shifted her weight on to one foot cocking her hip out and folding her arms across her chest defensively. “Gee, that doesn’t sound like you have a hidden agenda at all, considering that plan makes no sense! I could go ahead and take the box now and go through it after my dinner meeting all by my lonesome.”

  “But my lady, there are a few holes in your logic. First this box is filthy and could be crawling with more spiders or possibly killer dust bunnies. Secondly, I have attended meetings of the Fenton Neighbors Club and they tend to serve crustless cucumber sandwiches and watercress salad. So if I could offer you aid and spend some more time in your charming company, well that’s an evening well spent.” He was leaning in close again and offering that startling smile that probably left most women dazzled. Devin just leaned away again with an expression like he was waving a fish in her face: half disgusted, half confused.

  “You had me at the crawling spiders. Be at my house by eight o’clock with pepperoni and extra cheese on my half.”

  At seven fifty-five Devin heard the rumble of a diesel up the street and hurried on to the porch. Shane had been right about the food at dinner—delicate little cucumber and pimento cheese sandwiches, melon balls and apparently because last month’s meeting had been about finding food in nature, what appeared to be celery stalks were actually pieces of tiger lily stems. She was starving.

  Shane barely had the emergency brake set when Devin yanked open his passenger door and scampered up into the cab of his truck in her bare feet in search of the pizza.

  “Well, hello to you too!”

  Devin seized her prize, bringing the box up to her nose and inhaling deeply. “Mmmhhhh!” She spared Shane a sideways glance as she slid off the seat and out of the truck. “You are my new favorite person.”

  He laughed as he pulled the dusty box out from behind his seat and followed her up the sidewalk. “I do hear that a lot from the ladies.”

  “Wow, there really is no end to your delusions.”

  They sat crossed legged on her ancient floral couch, eating off paper plates. She used the pizza box as a barrier between them. Shane cocked an eyebrow as he watched hot grease drip down to her elbow as she scarfed down her second piece. Devin never missed a beat as she licked the drip off her elbow, sucked some sauce off her thumb and reached for her diet soda.

  “I never claimed to be some delicate lady.” She paused to take another huge bite. “So if you’re expecting dainty manners go to a tea party, just leave the pizza and files would you?”

  Shane scoffed as he dug another slice out of the box. “Are you kidding? Great legs and she can eat her weight in pizza. That’s sexy as hell.” He folded his fresh slice in half and bit off half of it in one exaggerated savage bite.

  “Wow.” She waved one of her hands in front of him in a circle. “It really is all about your little agenda, isn’t it?”

  “Uhh…yeah!” Shane pretended to be very emphatic. “It’s not like you’re here forever, I’ve only got the summer to close the deal.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  He laughed as he crumpled up his paper plate and napkin. “Is that the best you can do?”

  As she carried the empty pizza box to the kitchen she called him a list of much more colorful names. They reconvened in the dining room that she had turned into a command center for her investigation.

  “Let’s just go through this last box so you can get out of my house and I can try really hard not to run into you for at least 24 hours.”

  “Well that’s not really much incentive for me to get finished is it?” He folded his arms and leaned against the arched doorway that leads from the dining room to the kitchen. “You’d think you would be a little more grateful for all my help.”

  Most people would be prodded at this point to fall all over themselves apologizing and offering their thanks, maybe even offering a hug. Which was exactly what Shane was fishing for. Devin was not most people, and this little challenge was like throwing gasoline on an open flame.

  Her words came out as a snarl. “Maybe I would be grateful if you weren’t so completely obnoxious to be around. It’s round-the-clock cheesy pick up lines and innuendos with you. Honestly, I’ve gotten better stuff busting pimps off the street!”

  Shane wasn’t smiling for once. “If you’d lighten up and stop taking yourself so seriously, you’d see I’m perfectly charming. Everyone thinks so. I just go over the top to try to get your attention. Otherwise, you’d never even look up from case files to see where you’re at.”

  Devin’s dark hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. The humidity of the day had caused it to curl into ringlets; her normally chocolate brown eyes were dark and angry. The contrast with her red t-shirt was striking. Shane looked torn between kissing her and strangling her.

  “Why would I want to see where I am? This is not a vacation, and I’m not looking to relocate to Fenton! I’m on a forced leave.” She stepped back to give him a once over and folded her arms. “And if the girls around here think you’re all that…apparently I need to introduce them to some of those pimps I know.”

  Shane stepped up so he could look down at her. “You are impossible.”

  “Me? You’re an arrogant jerk. I’ve never met someone so full of themselves.” She put her hand on his chest and gave him a light a shove. “Get out of my face!”

  “Oh, why are you gonna make it physical? Because that’s the way you handle everything? You have serious coping issues.”

  This time Devin p
ointed a finger in his chest and kept her voice level, even though her eyes still snapped. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I know I have issues. No, I would prefer not to lay hands on you at all. I just don’t like your pepperoni spit flying on me when you’re yelling.” She had lost the level voice by the end and was punctuating every word with a stabbing poke to his chest.

  Shane retreated a half a step from her pokes. “I don’t need this abuse. I have better things to do tonight than dig through useless old files with an ungrateful shrew!”

  “Useless? So we’re back to that now? Henry’s lying in a hospital bed because he lit his house on fire during a senior moment? I’m imagining things, and it doesn’t really matter who killed that girl three decades ago even if it was a cover up?” She gripped the back of a dining room chair to keep herself from flinging something, preferably heavy, at his head.

  “Devin, you’re trying to make connections between things where there just aren’t any. Yes, you are on to something with the Bennett murder. Probably closer than anyone has ever been. But there are not ghosts around every corner!”

  “And you’re making an awful lot of excuses.”

  They stared at each other, fuming in black silence, for a full second before Shane slammed his now-empty soda can against the table. Rolling his eyes he repeated, “Impossible!” And pushed past her, headed for the front door. He snatched his keys off the hall table, and as he shoved through the screen door he called over his shoulder, “Let me know when you’re done with the box, and I’ll pick it up.”

  She was hot on his heels and got in her last jab as he was getting in his truck. “Don’t waste your time, since there’s no return on your investment. I’ll just drop it off at the office when I’m done.”

  If he answered, it was drowned out in the roar of the diesel engine.