by T. L. Haddix
Jason grimaced. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best way to defuse his temper. Okay, then. On that note, I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He headed down the hall, and once he was gone, Stacy apologized again.
“I really am sorry, Beth. I didn’t realize things had gotten so tense between the two of you. I’ll be more mindful of that in the future.”
Beth shook her head, waving away the apology. “It’s not a big deal. You didn’t know.”
“Still, I feel bad. Come on back, and we’ll go over the latest on these altars.” Once inside the bullpen, Stacy offered her a bottle of water.
“Thanks. I know you all have to be going crazy right now, with the weather being what it is.”
“You could say that. Calls are up at least twenty percent. If this heat doesn’t break soon, I’m cashing in my vacation days and heading to Canada. Want to go with me?” the detective asked as they sat down at her desk.
Beth laughed, most of the tension from her confrontation with Ethan finally easing. “I’d love to. When do we leave?”
Stacy's face was animated as she responded.. “I’ll call Wyatt right now and let him know we’re leaving. How fast can you pack?”
The bantering over, they got down to business. “So these latest reports – who called it in?”
“Joe Pace. He and Avery Seaton were out walking their properties and found the destruction.” She grabbed a folder from her desk, and handed Beth a stack of photos. “They’re just like the others.”
The photos showed scorched circles of earth, a pentagram in the middle, with remnants of melted candles placed at the points of the star. In the middle of the altar sat the burnt head of a goat.
Beth frowned. “Oh, my. The goat head is new. Who in the world could be doing this, Stacy?”
“I don’t know. But it’s got a lot of us worried, I’ll tell you that.”
“What does Wyatt think?”
The detective shrugged. “He’s afraid it’s kids experimenting with the occult, and that they’re escalating. That whoever it is doing this is using animals now? It makes us all nervous that they might graduate to humans. He’s talked to some people down in Louisville at the FBI. And that’s off the record, by the way.”
“No problem,” Beth assured her. “I appreciate your candor – you know that.”
Stacy smiled in return. “And I appreciate that I can talk to you openly, not have to guard what I say. You’re one of the few reporters I’ve encountered who doesn’t see law enforcement as the enemy.”
Touched, Beth cleared her throat and asked the question that had been on her mind for weeks now. “You’ve heard about the ‘visitors’ Cullen Jarvis keeps seeing?”
“Of course. You think this is connected to what he’s been experiencing?” Stacy tapped the folder in front of her.
Beth nodded. “I do. It’s just too much of a coincidence.”
“Even though there’s no evidence he’s really seeing something?”
“Yes.”
Stacy sat back in her chair. “It is an awfully convenient time for him to be hallucinating midnight visitors. I’ll look into his reports, see if I can find anything. Okay?”
Beth was relieved that someone, finally, was listening. “Oh, Stacy, that would be wonderful.”
After a few more minutes of discussion, they wrapped up the interview. As they stood, a large clap of thunder sounded through the building, followed by the sound of pounding rain against the windows.
“Maybe now it will cool down some, and people can go back to being normal crazy instead of heat-driven crazy,” Beth said.
Stacy laughed as they walked back to the reception area. “Please, God. So what’s your next step?”
“I’m going to go take a look at the maps the county recorder maintains. I want to get a bird’s eye view of this whole thing, see if that helps trigger some neurons into firing.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Stacy asked.
“Not at all.” Neither of them spoke again until they’d started up the stairs.
“I really am sorry about setting Ethan off on you. I should have known better, given the way he’s acted around you lately.”
Beth stopped on the stairs and Stacy drew level with her. “I just wish I knew what he was so angry about. We used to be friends, you know? I’ve known him since Chase brought him home when they were sixteen. Lately, though, it’s almost like he hates me.”
The detective’s expression was kind as they started walking again. “Honey, I think he’s attracted to you.”
“No. If he was, he’d act on it. Ethan’s not shy.”
“Maybe he doesn’t think you’d reciprocate. He does have hang-ups, Beth.”
“You mean because his dad was Mexican?”
Stacy nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Beth shook her head. “No. He knows I don’t care about that. I never have.”
“Are you sure he knows?”
“I guess so. I mean, we’ve never discussed it. It’s just always been – he’s just Ethan. He isn’t his ethnicity, if that makes sense.”
To her surprise, Stacy laughed. “I like you, you and your family. None of you judge people the way most of the rest of the world does. That being said, not everyone sees Ethan the way you do, and that tends to leave scars. You might keep that in mind.”
As they went in the county recorder’s office, Beth was pensive as she thought about what Stacy had said. It was a lot to consider, and it just might explain a few things.
Chapter Three
It was pitch black and quiet in the meadow where he hunted. There was no moon, and the night was slightly overcast, with stars occasionally peeking through the cloud cover above. All the creatures of the night were silent, having felt the danger in the air. They’d responded by hiding in their dens, nests, and warrens.
He reached into the passenger seat for his night-vision goggles, slid them onto his face and adjusted the band for comfort. It was a new pair, and he had yet to get them broken in just the way he wanted. The old ones had been damaged during his last hunting expedition. Just thinking about that farce made him angry, how his prey had almost turned the tables on him. He had made the mistake of underestimating the strung-out addict’s ability to run, but he wouldn’t do that again.
With a quick strides, he moved to the back of the van and opened the double doors wide to climb inside. He ignored the groggy man who was lying on the vehicle’s floor as he set up the data recording station and prepared the experiment. He had checked the subject’s bindings three times over back in town and knew they were secure, so he felt no compunction about turning his back on the man now.
As he stood, hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the van’s ceiling, he glanced at tonight’s test subject and saw that the effect of the sedative was wearing off. Just in time, he thought with satisfaction. Turning, he slid the board he used for an unloading ramp into place and pulled his victim’s body toward the back of the van. He let the man’s weight work for him, letting him slide down the ramp and off into the grass, where he landed with a soft thud.
He reached back inside the vehicle and pulled out the small folding table he used to stage his weapons on. After setting the table up, he unpacked the rifles from their protective cases. Hefting their weight in his hands, he decided to go with the Remington .223 this evening. The bolt snicked into place smoothly as he worked it, and he pushed the goggles up so that he could sight through the scope. Assured everything was in working order, he gently laid the weapon on the table and pulled the goggles back down so that he could see to perform the experiment.
When his victim groaned, the hunter’s anticipation grew. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he thought about tonight’s hunt. It had been a long dry spell, nearly a month since his last kill, and he was eager for another one. He ran his hand over the rifle. Feeling the smoothness of the grip, the cold metal of the barrel, he felt a surge of arousal.
“Well, friend,” he said to th
e man on the ground, “let’s get started, shall we? We’ve got quite a night ahead of us.” Through the goggles, the hunter could see the man’s eyes grow large in his leathery face, and he smiled again, thinking of the coming hunt.
Chapter Four
The mood inside the Lighthouse restaurant was festive Saturday night. Lauren Grant and Charlie Clark had been married earlier that evening in an intimate ceremony in Lauren’s parents’ backyard, and now the reception celebrating their wedding was underway. They’d opened the dancing earlier, and now the floor was crowded with their friends and family.
Much to Beth’s surprise, Ethan had asked her to dance almost as soon as the dancing had started. As they moved around the floor, they didn’t speak. Beth was leery of saying anything that would send him back into his dog-in-the-manger mood, and she figured if he wanted conversation, he could start it. After a minute, he took a deep breath and did just that thing.
“Hear anything new about these visitors Cullen’s been seeing?”
Beth’s hand tightened in his briefly and she ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see the spasm of hurt that crossed her face before she could mask it. Stacy’s theory aside, she shouldn’t be surprised that he had only asked her to dance as an excuse to question her. Forcing herself to relax, she replied just as casually.
“Not really. Cullen says everything’s been quiet, oddly enough. I don’t trust it, though.” Something in her voice alerted Ethan and he finally met her eyes.
“You know something,” he stated.
She shook her head. “No, I just don’t like all this ‘devil worshipping’ hype that’s been flying around. I’ve done quite a bit of research lately about the occult. Something’s off about the whole thing, and I can’t put my finger on what. It’s driving me up a wall.”
As the song ended, they pulled away from each other, applauding politely. He touched her arm and nodded toward one of the pair of double doors that led out onto the deck that surrounded the restaurant on three sides.
“Let’s get some air.”
After a brief hesitation, she agreed. They made their way to the doors, and once outside, they walked along the deck until they’d reached a deserted section that was away from the rest of the partygoers. The early September night was cool, with a strong breeze blowing off the Ohio River. A tiny sliver of moon hid behind some thin, wispy clouds, peeking through from time to time as they raced by.
Beth drew in a deep breath of fresh air as she stood watching the river. “I didn’t realize how stuffy it was inside. The breeze feels good.” She tried to ignore the wave of giddy nerves that washed over her at being alone in the dark with Ethan.
“Storm front moving in, though,” he remarked, watching the clouds. He dropped his gaze to study her as she watched a barge heading up the river. “I thought bridesmaid’s dresses were all supposed to be sea foam green and hideous.”
Laughing, she pushed a strand of hair off her cheek and turned to face him. “Where’d you hear that?”
He shrugged and smiled a little. “My sisters, where else? Every time one of their friends gets married, I hear how ugly the dresses are. That’s not an ugly dress.” He eyed the deep purple raw silk sheath Beth wore.
“Thanks, I think.” Smiling, she shook her head. “Lauren was so overwhelmed with getting the Brown Bag restored that she pretty much left the dresses up to Annie, Josie, and me. She told us purple, and we took it from there. I doubt she would have cared if we’d shown up this evening in purple flour sacks, truthfully.”
“She and Charlie have certainly been through the ringer the last few months,” he agreed. “It’s nice to see them so happy, see them fight for each other and win.”
He fell quiet, and Beth took the opportunity to study him. It was the most relaxed she had seen him in a very long time, and the most open. He was normally a very reserved, taciturn man, not given to showing his feelings.
A strong gust of wind chased over her shoulders, and she shivered, crossing her arms against the chill. Seeing her shudder, Ethan straightened and pulled off his jacket, drawing it around her shoulders. She murmured her thanks and clutched it close. The garment smelled like Ethan, and she snuggled into its depths.
He stepped back and thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “So what is it about this whole situation that bothers you so much? Is it the trespassers and the altars we’ve found or something else?”
“I just don’t know.” She knew her frustration sounded in her voice. “That’s what bothers me. It’s too staged, I suppose, too contrived. It doesn’t feel like kids playing around. What do you think?”
“I don’t know what I think, not really.”
Beth snorted and shot him an incredulous look. He frowned. “What?”
“Ethan, you’re the senior detective in the sheriff’s department. You have access to privileged information, and an ear to the ground for about ninety percent of what happens in this county. You don’t honestly expect me to believe you don’t have a working theory about what’s going on, do you?”
He didn’t speak, just stood studying her as he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Maybe I just don’t want to see my theory plastered all over the front page of the newspaper Monday morning,” he finally said.
She sucked in a breath, feeling the jab as though it had been a physical slap. “Excuse me?” she asked as her anger flared. “You know good and well that I don’t deserve that, Ethan Moore.” She straightened away from the railing and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it at him. He caught it reflexively as she turned on her heel to head back inside. Cursing under his breath, he reached out a hand and grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Let go, damn it!” Beth tried to wrench free, but he held on, his grip gentle but firm. Frustrated and hurt, she kicked out at him and connected with his shin, but since her shoes were open-toed, most of the momentum of the blow was lost. She tugged against his grip again. “I’m so done with this attitude you have around me. Let go!”
He cursed again and pulled her closer. Wrapping his arms around her, he trapped her arms between them. “I’m sorry, Beth. Damn it, I’m sorry,” he murmured in a weary voice.
She managed to work one of her hands loose and thumped a fist on his shoulder. The blow was hard enough to make Ethan wince, but most of the heat of her anger was gone. When he loosened his grip enough so that she could free her other hand, she placed it on his chest between them, but didn’t push him away.
Ethan kept his arms around her, and they stood there for a few minutes, not speaking. As she finally relaxed, he spoke. “I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry.” He brought a hand up to push her hair back from where it had fallen onto her face. Moving the hand to her chin, he tried to tip her face up to meet his gaze, but Beth twisted away. She didn’t want to meet his eyes until she had her emotions more under control.
When she’d finally calmed down enough to speak, she pushed against his chest. He released her with obvious reluctance. “I don’t operate that way, and you know it. How long have you known me? Since I was ten years old and you and Chase started hanging out together? How many times have you told me something in confidence and then seen it in the paper? How many?”
“None.”
“That’s right – not a single time. So where do you get off saying what you did?”
Ethan raised his hands and shoved them through his hair, meeting her angry gaze. “I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly. “I know you’re discreet, and I was completely off-base. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and I took it out on you.”
Beth watched his face for a long moment while she tried to decide whether or not he was sincere. Deciding to take him at his word, she nodded. As the wind gusted around them, she tried to hide a shiver, but wasn’t completely successful.
“Here.” Ethan picked up his jacket, which was only a little worse for wear. He shook it off and gently placed it back around her shoulders. Keeping his hands together at her waist, he held the jacket closed.
“My theory is that it’s all related, what’s going on out at Cullen’s, the altars.” His voice low, he continued, his frustration obvious. “I think somebody’s trying to pull something or hide something, and they’re using all this occult stuff as a diversion. I don’t know what’s really going on. Maybe it’s a meth lab or something.”
Despite the wind, she could feel the heat coming off his body. Standing this close to him, she was finding it difficult to focus on his words. As she struggled to keep her mind on their discussion, she wet her lips nervously. “I’ve wondered if whoever is doing this, if they didn’t choose Cullen deliberately.”
“How so?” He moved a step closer as he played with the buttons on the front of the jacket. Beth shrugged and raised one of her hands to cover his, stopping him before he could twist a button off.
“Think of the little boy who cried wolf,” she explained, her voice growing distracted as he turned his hand over and captured her fingers with his own. The sensation of his warm fingers playing against her sensitive palm sent a thrill down her spine. “Um, he told the villagers there was a wolf so many times that when the wolf really did show up, no one believed him. What if someone is setting Cullen up for that sort of thing?” She raised her gaze to his, heart pounding as she saw the way he was watching her face. He reached a hand up to lightly touch her cheek, trailing his fingers down to her mouth. “Ethan…”
“It’s possible, your theory about these visitors being a wolf in sheep’s clothing of sorts. It has merit.” He moved his hand along her jaw until he was cupping the back of her head and bent his head toward hers. Just as his lips touched hers, they heard footsteps moving toward them on the deck. Ethan swore quietly and moved to stand beside her.
“Beth? Ethan? Where are you?” Coming around the corner, her brother Chase stopped when he saw them standing at the railing. “Sorry. Lauren and Charlie are getting ready to leave, and you’re needed.”