The Witch On Twisted Oak

by Muller, Susan C.

  This was going to be one long weekend.

  Chapter 19

  Tessa eyed Ruben as he hefted the dog crate with Molly inside and carried it with one hand and Mrs. Marquez’s suitcase with the other. Mrs. Marquez followed him, bringing only her purse, although that probably weighed ten pounds.

  They started up a faint path that curved to the left, behind a line of trees. She struggled to keep up, carrying Bob’s crate. Ruben had offered to carry the cat, but the poor boy was traumatized from the ride and his proximity to that rambunctious dog. She was already wishing Molly had been a wife or girlfriend.

  As for Mrs. Marquez, she had all the makings of a mother-in-law from hell. She almost pitied Ruben. No wonder he was still single.

  Tessa was panting by the time the path curved again and the cabin came into view. She sat Bob’s crate down and stared at the view.

  Rubin had warned that the cabin was rustic, whatever that meant, and Ms. Marquez had grunted her disapproval, but this was frigging beautiful. Not the cabin, that remained to be seen, but the scenery.

  Woods surrounded a small clearing beside an inlet off the main lake. The first week in November and leaves floated to earth with each stir of a gentle breeze. The late afternoon sun turned the ground to gold.

  Ripples washed across the lake and onto the bank with a welcoming splash. A boat waited next to a floating dock. If that little building off to the side was a storage shed and not an outhouse, Ruben had found a slice of Paradise.

  Tessa hefted Bob’s crate and followed Ruben and his mother into the cabin.

  She sat the crate on a chair and pivoted around, trying to take it all in. Okay, rustic was one way to describe it. The cabin was basically one large room, although an open door led to what looked like a bedroom and a closed door might be, please God, a bathroom.

  A short counter, sink, two-burner stove, and apartment-sized refrigerator, ran along one wall. A round table, stained and scared, with four matching 1970s chairs marked this as the kitchen area.

  The center of the room boasted a sofa and love seat in matching avocado green and gold plaid. The coffee table was so big and heavy, nothing could have destroyed it. Good thing, considering the generations of feet that had obviously been propped up on it.

  She could have accepted this as simply available hand-me-down furniture. It was the accessories that caused her to worry about Ruben’s . . . taste, sanity? Creatures gawked at her from every inch of wall space. Deer heads, moose heads, fox, javelina, some type of cat—bobcat, mountain lion, she didn’t know. They didn’t even have moose in Texas; she wasn’t real sure about some of the others.

  The chandelier consisted of a massive tangle of deer horns. Changing the bulbs would be dangerous. The shades on the lamps seemed to be made out of hide. What animal they came from, she didn’t want to know.

  “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll go back for the next load.” Ruben was out the door before she could answer.

  How could she ever be comfortable here? Eyes stared at her from every direction. Was it too late to go home? How about a motel? No, she didn’t have the money to pay for a motel, not even a cheap one.

  Mrs. Marquez—Mamacita she wanted to be called—headed for the bedroom, rolling her suitcase behind her. Tessa eyed the closed door and crossed her fingers. Her legs had been crossed for the last forty-five minutes, but she was too embarrassed to ask Ruben to stop.

  Yes, a bathroom. Not a beautiful one, but it contained all the essentials.

  When she stepped out again, she felt ready to face . . . whatever she needed to face. Which turned out to be Mamacita, standing in front of the bathroom, glaring at her.

  “I took the side by the door. I usually have to get up during the night,” Mamacita said, and slammed the bathroom door.

  Did that mean what she thought it meant?

  Tessa slipped into the bedroom. A king-sized bed dominated the room. Matching nightstands touched the wall on either side. A dresser hugged the remaining wall, barely leaving room for a closet door.

  She looked again at the bed she would apparently share with Mamacita. A California King. Longer, but not as wide as a regular king. Wonderful.

  A second glance showed that the room was actually attractive, if small. No animal heads or skins. The lamps and overhead light were clean and modern. The comforter was light beige with an almost indiscernible darker check.

  The nightstand nearest the door already held a glass of water, a package of antacids, and a bottle of pills. Guess that told her.

  A thump at the door startled her and she hesitated before opening it. Her bag, her art supplies, Ruben’s duffle, and a bag of groceries leaned against the wall. She caught sight of Ruben’s back, disappearing around the tree line.

  “I’m going to take a rest,” Mamacita said and closed the bedroom door.

  That left her with an angry cat and a rowdy dog. Which one should she let out first? She decided to give Bob a head start on finding a place to hide.

  “Come on, Bob. That’s a boy.” She opened the crate and Bob shot across the room and disappeared. Where did he go? Not out the window, surely.

  Four curtains covered the back two walls and she yanked one open, praying the window wasn’t ajar. Instead of a window, she found a bed, recessed into the wall.

  Like a sleeping compartment on a train, the area contained a mattress, pillows, and a wall mounted light. The thick curtain pulled closed for privacy. Bob huddled in one corner, shooting her an angry glare.

  Tessa closed the curtain. Let Bob calm down on his own schedule. She’d hoped he could locate a place he felt safe. She just didn’t know he’d find his own bedroom.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d pulled the bags inside and put away the groceries. The refrigerator had been empty and unplugged, but made a reassuring hum when she scooted it away from the wall and plugged it in.

  Molly remained calm while she was working, but went ballistic the minute she sat down to rest.

  “Let’s go, girl. I’ll take you outside.” Molly jumped and twisted in circles when she saw the leash.

  The moment the leash clicked into place, Molly sprinted for the door, dragging Tessa behind her. Once outside, she almost yanked Tessa off her feet. She sniffed, and peed, and squatted, and dug, while Tessa coaxed her toward and old log near the lake.

  Finally, she eased herself down onto the log and tried to catch her breath. Molly, obviously disappointed in the length of her walk, paced in front of her, ready to run at the slightest encouragement.

  Where was Ruben? He’d been gone much longer than on his first trip. What would she do if he didn’t come back? At least he had a gun. He should be able to take care of himself.

  She couldn’t even find her way home. And with a dog, a cat, and Mamacita? Forget it.

  How had she gotten into this mess? Only a few hours ago she’d woken full of enthusiasm, ready to spend the day painting. She’d forced herself to run to the store first, knowing she wouldn’t quit working until she was exhausted or the light went out.

  Now she was God knows where, with people she didn’t know and wasn’t sure she liked. There weren’t many people in the world she did like. Face it, there was something wrong with her. She’d never fit in anywhere. She had trouble making friends. She’d rather lose herself in a crowd than try to carry on a conversation one-on-one.

  She was just as tongue tied and uncomfortable with women as men. Why did other people find it so easy? The only place she’d truly belonged was in her own garage, alone, painting. Now that was ruined, too.

  Would she ever feel safe there again? Probably not. Tears threatened, but she refused to let them fall. Molly rubbed against her leg, as if feeling her despair and Tessa stroked her silky fur.

  A voice spoke in her ear. “You could get hurt sitting out here like this.”

  Tessa screamed and jumped, tripping over Molly and sprawling onto the ground.

  Chapter 20

  Well, fuck. He hadn’t meant to frighten h
er. Ruben set the various items he carried on the ground and held out his hand. “It’s just that snakes sometimes crawl under these old logs, especially now that the weather’s cooler.”

  Instead of grabbing his hand, Tessa scooted backwards like a crab, away from the log and almost into the lake.

  “This one should be safe. Molly would have investigated if there were anything under it. I only wanted to warn you to be careful in the future.” Would Molly have warned her? He had no idea, but he couldn’t afford to have her panic.

  “Where did you come from?” Tessa sputtered. “I’ve kept an eye on the path.”

  “I had to move the car. I didn’t want to leave it that close to the cabin, so I cut through the woods.” He brushed a hand through his hair and felt leaves and twigs. No wonder he scared her. Dirty, sweaty, appearing out of nowhere. He should have cleared his throat, warned her somehow.

  Sweat dampened his hairline and shirt. He could almost smell himself. The water heater took half an hour or more to give up any hot water, and that was after he switched it on.

  Maybe a cold shower was what he needed anyway. Sharing a cabin with Tessa wasn’t going to be easy. Molly’s leash had tangled in her skirt and exposed way too much of those legs. And the way that blouse clung to her didn’t help either.

  He’d never have believed it, but thank goodness Mamacita came with them.

  Ruben’s hand remained out, but Tessa ignored it. She wasn’t ready to see the things holding his hand would reveal to her.

  “Let’s get this stuff to the cabin and then I’ll take Molly for a good long walk,” he said.

  She stood and brushed the damp leaves off the back of her skirt. Molly tugged on her leash, but Tessa yanked her back and shouted, “No.”

  Hadn’t he learned not to say the ‘W’ word in front of that dog? It was an invitation for disaster. She’d only known the dog for a few hours and she’d figured that out.

  As she watched, he hefted the bags of dog food, cat food, and kitty litter, leaving her only the empty litter pan. The cat food was ten pounds, she knew that, and the kitty litter was probably five pounds. She wasn’t sure about the dog food, but it was larger than the cat food bag. That made thirty-five or forty pounds he had just carried up the hill and through the woods on his third trip.

  His shirt might be damp, but he wasn’t even breathing heavy. Only this morning, the sight of the pistol resting on his hip had unnerved her. Now she checked to make sure he still had it.

  Granted, she hadn’t know him long, but never once had he done anything that made her uncomfortable. He had remained calm and quick thinking in an emergency. He obviously cared about his mother, although that might not be a plus. Ted Bundy and Elmer Wayne Henley had been nice to their mother’s also, hadn’t they?

  So why had her mother been so afraid of him?

  If only she could remember the details. Her mother had definitely mentioned the name Ruben in relation to the time she had the premonition of her own death. Had she seen it in his palm? She had called him evil, Tessa was sure of that much.

  But this man wasn’t evil. Why hadn’t she taken his hand when he offered it? Then she would have known exactly what he was.

  Denying her gift—or burden it felt like—was fine at a cocktail party, but her life was at stake here. Before the evening was over, she needed to find a way to grasp his hand. She couldn’t sleep not knowing if he had any part in killing her mother.

  Two squirrels chattered in a nearby tree, and Molly almost yanked Ruben’s arm off, dashing toward them. He gave a quick tug on the leash and hissed, “No.”

  That might have worked when Tessa tried it, but the dog completely ignored him. He was stuck for the weekend with three females who paid absolutely no attention to his suggestions. And he was supposed to be in charge of their safety.

  He was beginning to look forward to his next on-call weekend.

  “Give me the leash. I’ll take her for a while.”

  “Are you sure you can handle her? She pulls pretty hard.” Tessa was tall, but he didn’t believe she was that strong.

  “She doesn’t respect you as the boss. That’s why she misbehaves, she knows you won’t actually do anything about it.”

  That made it unanimous. Even the dog walked all over him. What had happened to him this last week? He’d lost his mojo, and if he didn’t find it quick, they might all be in trouble.

  Tessa reached for the leash and as she took it from his hand, her fingertips grazed his palm. Sparks shot up his arm and he yanked his hand back.

  What the fuck? He’d never felt anything like that before. Or had he? There was something, a long time ago. Had he touched an electric wire? He couldn’t remember exactly, but the feeling was the same.

  This time must have been caused by Molly’s leash. He had it wrapped tightly around his hand and that probably cut off the circulation.

  Tessa shot him a strange look. Had he insulted her when he yanked his hand back? He didn’t see how. That’s exactly what she did whenever he accidentally touched her.

  Her hot and cold reactions were driving him crazy. He’d suggested, almost insisted, she remain in the cabin while he walked Molly. He needed a few minutes of peace and quiet to figure out the fastest way to solve this case so that all of them could go back to their normal lives. Yet here she was, with him and the dog.

  She stopped and Molly sat obediently beside her as she gazed at the lake and sky. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I want to be out here painting as soon as the light’s right.”

  “What?” he sputtered. “It’s not safe to stand out here. Someone could come across the lake or through the woods. You need to stay in the cabin.”

  “I though you dragged me out here because it was safe. I’m not staying cooped up in that cabin with all this beauty crying out to be painted.”

  He couldn’t contradict her, not really. It was safe here. At least for the time being. But if she was outside, he needed to be outside with her, just to be sure. And if she wore those shorts to paint, he wouldn’t have his mind on the job.

  “You can have an hour in the morning, but we need to be at my brother Julio’s by noon for my nephew’s birthday lunch.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I can hardly wait. As if Sunday lunch with relatives isn’t bad enough, I get to have Sunday lunch with somebody else’s relatives.”

  Chapter 21

  Ruben leaned back in the big recliner. Mamacita had complained briefly about sandwiches for supper, but she’d eaten so little it couldn’t have mattered what he served.

  Molly had spent fifteen minutes searching for Bob and never figured out he was hiding behind a curtain. She had finally given up and made do with checking out the litter box. She watched him with innocent eyes, but a pyramid of kitty litter sat on top of her nose.

  Mamacita had gone into the bedroom to change, and Tessa was brushing her teeth. When they came back into the room, it was time to have ‘The Talk.’ They had avoided it for too long.

  His only problem was which subject to start with; Mamacita’s insistence that Tessa’s mother had hexed her with a death curse, or her stubborn denial that she knew anything about the woman. Then there was whatever information Tessa continued to hide from him.

  He couldn’t solve this case with one arm tied behind his back and neither of these women was safe until somebody went to jail. Somebody he’d bet his pension was Ruben Jacinto, but without proof he couldn’t move on the man.

  Mamacita stuck her head out of the bedroom door. “I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  No, no, no. She couldn’t go to bed yet. “It’s still early. Only 7:30. Why don’t you sit in here with us for a few minutes?”

  “I’m already in my nightgown.”

  “That’s okay. I’m ready for bed also.” He kicked off his shoes. That was about a far as he was likely to go tonight. “Did you take the pill the doctor gave you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I took it, for all the goo
d it does.”

  Tessa stepped out of the bathroom, her face damp and shiny clean, the last traces of makeup removed. Although why she bothered to wear any with that skin he wasn’t sure.

  “Could you wait a few minutes?” she asked Mamacita. “I’d like to feed Bob in there, where he won’t be worried about the dog. And he won’t eat if there’s anyone around.”

  Ruben almost cheered. He couldn’t have arranged things any better. It was almost worth having the cat around. Almost.

  Mamacita’s shoulders stiffened. “I won’t be able to sleep if the room smells like cat food.”

  “I’ll take the bowl out and wash it before we go to bed.”

  Ruben waited while Tessa fixed Bob’s food. When she lifted the cat Molly’s eyes lit up. So that’s where he’s been hiding she seemed to say. Poor cat wouldn’t be safe again anytime soon.

  It took ten minutes and the efforts of both he and Tessa to convince Bob to stay in the bedroom and Molly to stay out of it. The dog lay with her litter-covered nose pressed against the one inch gap at the bottom of the door, occasionally letting out a pathetic wine.

  Mamacita scooted as far down the sofa, away from Tessa, as she could get. The only difference in her actions and the cat’s was that her claws hadn’t come out. He looked again. Well, maybe they had.

  Tessa glanced around the room. “Did you decorate this place yourself?”

  He scrutinized the room, startled by the question. If she was trying to break the ice and start a conversation, he appreciated the help.

  “No, it came furnished. The only thing I added was this recliner.” He patted the big leather chair. “I built on the bedroom and the storage shed outside. Other than that, I left it alone.”

  Tessa definitely seemed relieved. Was the place that bad? He peered up at the wall in front of him and a moose stared back with glassy eyes. The nearest deer had its mouth taped shut. He’d never noticed that. Had the jaw broken or was it a practical joke? He wouldn’t put it past Adam to think that was funny.