by Jana Oliver
Beck’s nerve faltered. ‘I know that now.’ He looked up. ‘Why are you here? Why would a demon be playin’ tag with the gators?’
The fiend’s eyes flared. ‘Punishment, they said. For not honouring the Prince in the proper way.’ It spat in disgust. ‘For not heeding his commands.’
‘Not a fan of old Lucifer, huh?’ Beck said, seeing if he could get a reaction.
The demon winced at the use of its master’s name, but it didn’t cry out in anguish like most of them did.
Beck sensed weakness. ‘Let me guess, yer one of Sartael’s crew but somehow you didn’t show up for the big battle. You thought that crazy old archangel was going to knock off Lucifer and you wouldn’t have to be there to help out. Now yer here. A traitor exiled from a bunch of traitors.’
The demon moved faster than he thought possible. He brandished the rifle for protection, but the fiend had already struck and retreated. Beck staggered backwards, scowling in pain. Keeping an eye on the demon, he warily bent down to touch a hand to his left leg. It came away bloody. Within an hour or two he’d start to feel the effects, first a fever, then, as the infection worsened, he’d begin hallucinating. If left untreated with Holy Water, the wound would kill him.
‘Now you have no choice, Denver Beck,’ the demon snarled. ‘You will give me your soul or you will die here and no one will find your bones.’ It smiled and gestured towards the patch of ground in front of the other tree. ‘I’m sure the brothers will embrace you in death.’
Riley knew she was being stubborn and wasting money by keeping the unused motel room, but the moment she packed up Beck’s clothes and moved them into her room she was admitting he was gone. Maybe forever.
Restless, she called Stewart to let him know the latest, but he wasn’t at home. According to his housekeeper he was attending yet another meeting between the witches and necromancers in an effort to tamp down the tensions brewing between the latter.
So life sucks even back home.
She left a detailed message and then began to pace from room to room, unsure of what to do next. The helplessness was driving her crazy. Beck was somewhere and he needed her help, but what could she do without wheels or any notion of where to turn next?
A knock on her door paused her pacing. If this was Beck, she’d hug him first then shout. Then hug him again and never let go.
She checked through the privacy portal and found twin blue eyes gazing back at her.
Simon? He was the last person she’d expected to see in Sadlersville. She opened the door, not knowing what to say.
‘Riley,’ he said, clearly as uncomfortable. ‘Master Harper sent me down to help you find Beck.’
‘Ah, OK.’ Now what?
Simon didn’t move. ‘I know this is hard for you, but . . .’
‘We’ll work it out,’ she said, waving in. ‘You can stay in Beck’s room.’
Simon didn’t remark about the fact that the rooms were connected and the door between them was open. Luckily the housekeeper had made Beck’s bed or it’d look even worse.
Riley opened a drawer and gazed down at the tidy piles of Beck’s socks and underwear.
‘I haven’t moved his stuff because I thought . . .’ She froze, her hands trembling. ‘It’ll just take me a minute and . . .’ Riley looked up at the ceiling, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Oh God, Simon what if . . . he’s . . . dead?’
He gently turned her round. She wanted him to hold her, but with what had happened between them, was that even possible? Apparently he was thinking along the same lines.
‘Stewart said we’re not to come home until we find Beck,’ he murmured.
‘But what if . . .’
‘Then we’ll find who hurt him and introduce them to Hell . . . personally.’
Shocked at the malice in his voice, Riley took a step backwards. This wasn’t the Simon she knew, the one who used to apologize to demons when he caught them.
Oblivious to the reaction he’d caused, he gestured towards the open drawer.
‘Leave Beck’s things where they are. I’ll work around them. He can pack them up when he gets back.’
That was a thick slice of hope and she clutched at it greedily.
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘let him do it. No way I’m touching his underwear.’
Simon gave her a nod and a painfully thin smile.
Riley left him to unpack. As he moved around the other room, he was on the phone to Harper reporting that he was in Sadlersville and ready to take up the hunt. Though it made sense that he’d be the best trapper to send down to help her – all the journeymen would be too busy – it was hard to be close to him without remembering their past. She saw Stewart’s hand in this, even though Harper had been the one to send her ex down south.
Riley had just turned off her computer when Simon stuck his head into the room. ‘I came down on the bus and I haven’t eaten yet. You hungry?’
Riley really wasn’t, but to humour him she nodded. ‘How’d you get out to the motel?’
‘I walked. Couldn’t seem to find a cab.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Maybe we can get a ride. She dialled Sam’s number and when the sheriff’s niece answered she explained the situation.
‘The new dude. Is he a hottie?’ Sam asked.
‘Totally.’
‘I’ll be there in ten.’
‘We got a ride,’ Riley called out, not bothering to explain it was because of Simon’s appearance, not out of kindness.
A screech of tyres in the parking lot announced their driver had arrived. As Riley and Simon walked to the car, Sam rolled down the window.
‘You’re right, he is a babe.’
Riley groaned. Just shoot me now. ‘Simon, this is Samantha, a.k.a. Sam.’ Who has no idea of how to monitor that mouth of hers.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said politely.
‘Yeah, real fne,’ the girl replied, and beamed.
Riley had Simon take the front seat, knowing that Sam would spend the entire drive with her eyes on him. If he was sitting in the back seat, that could get dangerous if they actually encountered any significant traffic.
‘So what’s it like?’ Sam gushed. ‘Being a trapper, I mean. Is it all kick-butt stuff, like the TV show?’
‘It’s unique,’ Simon replied diplomatically. Then he deftly changed the subject to Sam’s life and away from his. Their driver didn’t seem to notice. As she kept talking, Simon made conciliatory noises, but Riley could tell his mind was elsewhere.
‘So where can we eat?’ Riley asked. Now that she was out of the motel room she was hungry.
‘There’s an Italian place. That work for you?’ Sam asked.
‘Sounds good,’ Riley replied.
It didn’t work for any of them as the restaurant was closed for a private party.
‘God, it’s like being exiled in Siberia,’ Sam grumbled.
Like moths to a flame, they ended up at the diner and chose a booth at the back. When Sam made sure to sit next to Simon, he seemed bemused by the attention. To her surprise, Riley didn’t feel a bit of jealousy. Whatever she’d felt for her ex-boyfriend had been put to rest, reinforced by a drenching in Holy Water.
At least he doesn’t hate me now.
As Sam inspected the menu, Simon dug two newspapers out of his pack and set them in front of Riley. ‘Sorry, I should have given you these at the motel. Stewart wanted you to read them. They’re by the reporter Beck was . . . dating.’
Dating? That wasn’t what Riley would call it, but she didn’t bother to correct him.
‘Thanks,’ she replied, and pulled the papers closer. She started with the newspaper from two days earlier, the day Sadie had died. The article was not on the Atlanta Journal Constitution’s front page, which was a blessing, but buried inside. Beck’s photo was decent and though she didn’t want to give the Stick Chick any credit, the article was well written. There was nothing inflammatory until you read the last paragraph when Justine began to pose questions about Beck’s
early years in Sadlersville. In particular, his role in the deaths of the Keneally brothers.
Which meant the masters and all of Atlanta now knew Beck’s darkest secret.
Grumbling under her breath, Riley switched to the next paper, the one that had been published that morning.
Is this decorated war hero a stone-cold killer?
Her eyes lifted to meet Simon’s. She could tell he was concerned about her reaction.
‘I’m good.’ Or I will be, right after I rip her lungs out.
Riley skimmed the article. Justine had made only one error, claiming Beck had been sixteen rather than a year younger. Still, it didn’t answer the question, but laid out the pros and cons of the case. At the end there was another teaser:
Was Denver Beck the scapegoat for someone else’s heinous crime?
‘Stewart thinks the reporter is using Beck to flush out the real murderer,’ Simon observed.
‘If that’s the case, the killer would go after him, not her, which might just have happened.’ Riley folded the paper, thinking it through. ‘I need to make a phone call,’ she said, slipping out of the booth.
‘What do you want to eat?’ Sam called out.
‘I don’t care. Just order something with potato chips.’ It was time for fat, salt and something crunchy.
Riley stepped outside the diner into the chilly night air. The town was quieter now, few cars on the road. Down the street the cop shop was lit up, three cars parked in front of the building. Donovan was still on the case.
Riley scrolled through her incoming calls until she found the one she wanted. As it rang through, she made a fist of her free hand. I hate you, you lying skank. You hurt the guy I love, but if you can help me find him I’ll . . . I’ll . . .
‘Justine Armando,’ the lyrical voice announced.
‘It’s Riley Blackthorne. I’m in Sadlersville. I need you to help me find Beck.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘He’s missing and the cops think he shot a local guy, then killed himself,’ Riley said.
‘That’s nonsense,’ Justine retorted. ‘Tell me what has happened.’
Riley laid it all out for her, including the fake suicide call. ‘You were using Beck as bait to find the real killer.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Not as such, but my articles may have served as a catalyst. I am in Florida conducting research on a collateral story. As soon as I am finished here, I’ll come to Sadlersville.’ A lengthy pause. ‘However, in return I want the truth of what happened at Oakland Cemetery.’
She never stops. ‘I can tell you about the battle with the demons, but that’s it.’
‘I need to know it all.’
‘Not happening. I’m under orders from the Vatican.’ That wasn’t quite the truth, but closer than Riley would care to admit. ‘Here’s the deal. Your articles started this mess so now you’re going to help me get Beck back. If you try to screw us over, you will have an enemy for life.’
Justine huffed. ‘You are hardly a threat, girl.’
Riley’s mind conjured up the favour Lucifer owed her.
‘In that you would be wrong,’ she said, and then hung up.
Riley’s ham sandwich and potato chips were waiting for her, but her stomach churned so badly it was hard to eat. She didn’t like having to threaten people, even the skank.
Simon put down his hamburger and gave her a worried look. ‘You OK?’
‘I just did a deal with the devil,’ Riley said. When he registered surprise, she shook her head. ‘Not that one. The reporter chick. Justine is going to help us. She knows this case as well as the cops, but she can’t get to town for a few hours.’
‘Then what do we do while we wait?’ Simon asked.
‘God, I don’t know.’ Riley bowed her head. ‘I feel so useless. If he’s being held captive somewhere, he’ll be counting on me to find him.’ Rescue him.
Sam’s tanned hand stretched across the table and gently touched hers. ‘Hey, you’re not alone here.’
Riley knew that. But Beck might be. Or he’s dead. She had to prepare herself for that moment when everything good in her life ended. When there would be no more Backwoods Boy to harass. No cocky smile, no more kisses. His will left everything to her: his house, his rabbit, his money, but without Beck there to share it none of that would matter.
The rest of the dinner was quiet, even Sam sensing now was not the time to chatter. When they returned to the motel, Beck’s truck was parked in front of their rooms, a note stuck in the door saying the keys were in the office. Riley checked in with the front-desk guy to claim those and an extra room key for Simon.
As they headed to their separate rooms, her cellphone rang. ‘Hello?’
‘Miss Blackthorne. This is McGovern at the funeral home. I’m ready on this end so we can hold the service tomorrow morning. That way you don’t have to stay down here any longer than you need. I’m sure your family is eager to have you back home.’
He’d pushed a Don’t Go There button.
‘Beck is the closest person I have to family,’ she said hotly. Simon leaned in the doorway now, listening in, caught by her sharp tone. ‘I’m not leaving until I find him. I’m sure his mom can wait a few days.’
Riley winced at what had just come out of her mouth, but it was true. Sadie was past caring.
McGovern sighed down the phone. ‘This isn’t like Atlanta, Miss Blackthorne. Not everyone wants Denny found,’ he replied. ‘You’d be best to back off or it could get unpleasant.’
Was that a warning?
‘I’m staying, Mr McGovern. I don’t care how unpleasant you think it’ll get. I’ll find him, one way or another.’
There was a lengthy silence.
‘Well,’ he began, ‘since Denny’s not here, I’ll need to have you review the arrangements for his mother’s funeral. Can you come by the funeral home tonight? Say about ten?’
‘Tonight?’ That seemed odd.
‘I’m busy right now with funeral arrangements for another family. Come in the back door. I’ll have everything ready.’
I don’t want to do this.
She gave in. ‘OK, I’ll be there.’ Anything to get this guy off her case.
Chapter Sixteen
Despite her misgivings, Riley would have gone to the funeral home on her own, but Simon refused to let that happen.
‘No, I’ll go with you,’ he said. ‘There’s something about this town that makes me nervous.’
‘Like what?’ she asked as she cleaned the seats and steering wheel with hand wipes. The fingerprinting stuff seemed to be everywhere.
‘I don’t know. It’s just . . . wrong in some way. Or maybe it’s me. I’m not real trusting right now.’
‘I know how that goes.’ She pulled out one of the blankets Beck kept in his truck and had Simon spread it over the seat. That was the best they could do until she could find a car wash.
As they headed into town, Simon fidgeted. That wasn’t his style.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
He seemed startled she’d noticed. ‘Just a lot on my mind.’
She waited him out.
‘I’ve been meeting with a counsellor. He thinks I’m suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.’
‘And you think . . .’
‘It’s more than that. I’m so short tempered. I can go from cool to furious over nothing. Whenever I’m talking to someone, I wonder what their real agenda is.’
Riley slowed to a crawl behind some guy in a battered Chevy. ‘I’ve been second guessing stuff I’ve done.’ Like trusting Ori.
‘You mean like agreeing to Heaven’s deal to save my life?’ Simon asked.
That she hadn’t expected. ‘When I was really, really mad at you, yes. I wondered why I’d bothered. The truth is, I had to do it. You were a nice guy. You deserved to live.’
‘Were . . .’ he said. ‘Not . . . are a nice guy.’
His depressed tone worried her. ‘Are you doing OK, I mea
n, you’re not . . . thinking . . . of . . .’
Simon shook his head. ‘Suicide is a sin and I have enough of those to deal with. I don’t think I’ll ever find peace again, not like I once had.’
Riley halted at a stop sign, knowing he needed support, not condemnation. ‘You will that peace and when you do it’ll be good again. Hell won’t get a second chance at you.’
‘Maybe. Or perhaps they’ve already won and I don’t know it.’
Riley parked behind the funeral home, as McGovern requested.
‘This guy is driving me nuts,’ she said. ‘He’s making a bigger fuss than he needs to.’
As they exited the truck, Simon’s cellphone rang.
‘It’s my mom,’ he said, glancing at the screen. ‘I better take this. She’s really worried about me right now and if I duck the call she’ll freak.’
‘Say hi to her for me. I’ll be back in a bit.’
The rear entrance led to the funeral home’s garage where the hearse was parked on one side, its back door open. An empty body bag lay next to it.
That’s creepy.
Maybe she should have waited until Simon had finished his call so she wasn’t on her own.
Stop being a wuss.
‘Hello?’ she called out. When there was no reply, Riley continued until she entered a hallway. She passed a couple of doors, but those were closed. Sometimes it was cool to see behind the curtain, know how things worked. Mortuaries were not included in that list.
Some instinct made her stop and turn. McGovern was behind her, standing in a patch of dimly lit hall.
‘Oh, there you are,’ she said, trying to relax, but failing.
He moved towards her. ‘I’m sorry you had to come here, but I had no choice. Especially when the next of kin has committed suicide.’
The last word hung in the corridor between them.
The hairs on the back of Riley’s neck rose. How did he know about the note or the phone call? Was it small-town gossip or something else?
Beck had come to see this guy right before he disappeared. An undertaker could haul anyone out of town and no one would notice. They’d just assume it was a corpse.
Hello? This is not a horror movie. Get a grip.