The problem, Taran realized, was that he was working with something he didn’t quite believe. He had a gut feeling he had experienced something, but everything in him said he was slowly going crazy and was even crazier to believe it. Was the creature he thought he’d seen involved in the murders? And if it was just a hallucination, did that have something to do with the murders? Could the women have been experiencing hallucinations before they died?
So long as he didn’t know the answer to whether he’d had a vision that was real or a hallucination about the creature, he wouldn’t really be able to do a good job of investigating anything, especially if he himself were compromised.
Taran sighed and finished his Dr. Pepper, still chewing on those ideas.
Chapter 24
The next day was cloudy and overcast but there was no rain. The forecast said the clouds would pass by afternoon, although the humidity and warmth would take longer to pass. Zoe liked the warmth, truth be told. The chillier days were not something she missed about Portland. It was too bad she also had to live with the humidity. She felt like the air was rebelling against her use of it by trying to compress her lungs so she couldn’t breathe.
Zoe hadn’t slept well, waking to odd dreams, though nothing like the one about her mother. These had been more normal nightmares of the sort where you were running from something that was out to get you. In Zoe’s case it was usually a dwarf-like creature with knives for fingers. Once she’d dreamed it was actually Taran who was out to get her and he’d stabbed her in the heart with a dart that he’d made for his homemade dartboard. Where she got that idea, she didn’t know, but the specifics of the dart made her cringe.
She woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying, which soothed her somewhat.
Her father had come home around dinnertime, carrying in a salad and chicken from the store. He’d noticed that she seemed out of sorts, had heard about the thing she thought she saw in the backyard. It was what had made him leave the coffee shop, though the rain had started up again in earnest, the last hurrah from the side swipe of the hurricane. Zoe was thankful he’d figured they wouldn’t want to go out again. Further, she was glad that there was only gossip that she’d seen something and had been certain enough to call the police. Even then her father had thought she was likely safe in the house.
Zoe had to admit that she’d been a little embarrassed when he’d pointed out the smell of vodka on her breath when he’d wakened her from another restless nap on the sofa.
This morning he was banging pans around on the stove, not meanly but with precision, probably to let her know she shouldn’t go drinking in the middle of the day, no matter what she thought she’d seen.
Eventually they were seated around the rectangular table in the dining room, all the lights on, chasing shadows to the corners, the table the same old scarred one they’d had when Zoe was a child. They sat in their usual places, her mother’s place with its back to the kitchen starkly empty.
“Thanks for making breakfast,” Zoe said. They normally ate on their own. Her dad had a penchant for bacon sandwiches, and she preferred to have just some toast and coffee. Today he’d made bacon, eggs sunny-side-up, and toast.
Ed grunted at her. “You didn’t say much about why Rees was here or why you and he thought Kay could be of help.”
Zoe sighed. How and what to tell her dad? “I just thought she might have remembered something about Momma.”
“He was digging around about her death with me, too,” Ed said, looking up, eyebrows furrowed so deeply they nearly met in the center of his forehead.
“No one saw anything with Elaine, so I guess he was hoping to find some connections with the deaths from two years ago,” Zoe said. “And then I saw that thing in the yard. It was more than a shadow, but not a person. It was really creepy.”
Fortunately she’d had practice lying to her father about things like alcohol use and the times she’d gotten home from a date late so she’d sneak through the house trying not to wake her parents. Zoe knew how to act so that he’d believe her, knew just how far to push him. There were some things you didn’t outgrow.
Ed nodded. “And now everyone thinks you’re next on the list.”
“I thought I was, too,” Zoe said, hating to have to use the past tense. She still thought she was on the list, but she wasn’t going out in the backyard—any backyard. In fact, if she could help it, she wouldn’t go outside at all. Who knew what could happen? You always saw women in horror movies going and doing the exact thing they shouldn’t because they wanted to save everyone. Well she was selfish enough that she wouldn’t do that. She’d save herself, unless, of course, her daddy was directly threatened and then she’d consider what to do. She’d talk to him about how they could both potentially survive.
Ed sipped at his coffee, silent for the moment. The ice maker in the refrigerator dropped a cube. Zoe crunched a piece of bacon, cooked to within a second of being burnt to a crisp. It was, in fact, slightly burnt, but that was how she and her father liked it. Bacon well done. Eggs sunny and runny.
“I’m wondering if you shouldn’t go back to Portland for a while, until they catch this guy,” Ed said, not looking at her. “If it’s money, I can float you some cash for the plane fare. You’ll need to face Tyler sooner or later.”
Zoe hadn’t told him she’d faced Tyler for the last time, moving her stuff out and boxing it up, sharing a storage unit with her friend LeAnne while she decided what she wanted to do. She sighed.
“My stuff is in storage already. LeAnne and a couple of other friends helped me before I left,” Zoe said quietly.
“So it’s a done deal then? Really going through with leaving him?”
Zoe didn’t look at her father.
He nodded. “Always was kind of a sketchy kid. Didn’t like his manners. Course you never know how someone is going to be raised when they live half way across the country. You coming home for good then?”
“I was thinking about it,” Zoe said. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay here or maybe go live in Winston-Salem or Raleigh. May not have a choice when it comes to jobs.”
Her father pushed more egg onto his toast, the runny yellow insides dripping off the now soggy bread, and put that in his mouth. He didn’t respond right away.
Zoe sipped at her coffee, knowing she would miss the fancy coffees she’d taken for granted in Portland. There she could find something on nearly every corner. Here the coffee shop didn’t do anything real fancy, just an espresso that left much to be desired and something called a cappuccino that tasted nothing like the ones Zoe had had in the west. There were Starbucks around, just not in Corbin Meadow.
“I wonder if Raleigh would be far enough away? Maybe a good time to go back and get your things. Drive across country. It’s not too late to beat the weather in the Rockies,” Ed said.
“I haven’t completely decided,” Zoe hedged, suddenly afraid of losing her link to her old life in the west. Just yesterday she’d been making plans to remake the town. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted her things. She didn’t want to make a decision that permanent.
Her father nodded again. “Maybe a good thing. Give folks a few years to get used to you being Zoe Mason-Hyer again without that Parker on the end.”
“Be less of a mouthful,” Zoe said, smiling.
Her father grunted in the way that said he found her amusing, and they went back to eating.
“You mother saw shadows, too, in those last days. She didn’t call the police because she didn’t think they were people,” Ed finally said.
“Really? You never told me.” Zoe lowered her fork, leaning forward on the table.
Ed shrugged. “Never thought about it. Didn’t really recall. She wasn’t worried about them too much. They were shadows. Could have been the wind, if there’d been wind.”
Zoe nodded. Had her mother had a warning, too? Was that why she’d called Zoe?
“I just wish we knew why,” Zoe whispered.
�
��Me, too,” Ed said quietly, choking on the words.
Chapter 25
Sheriff Blake Fellows arrived that morning with a coffee purchased from down the highway. He’d gotten there shortly after Mattie and Taran had arrived. Taran had gotten there as Earline, the night dispatcher, was leaving. Earline always left promptly when her shift was up. She usually played on the computer on her nights and then flirted with whichever of the officers was on patrol. Lately that’d been Bobby Joe.
Unlike Blake, Taran had to make do with the coffee from their own dying coffee maker, making him feel a bit like a poor relation. It also told him a lot about what Blake thought of him. Even the smell from the coffee shop coffee was better than the stuff at the station. That coffee always had the slightest sour scent of vinegar which had once been used to try and clean off the stains from the old machine.
Blake made a face when Taran joined him in the witness room. The sheriff was using it to spread out some information, and he’d said he was hoping to talk to Taran. The chairs had upholstery on the seats which made them less cold, or hot, than plain metal, and Taran found that his butt didn’t fall asleep as quickly when sitting which surprised him for some reason. He didn’t complain or drag a chair from his office in so he could be more comfortable. He was going to be courteous even if Blake wasn’t.
The table in the witness room was bigger than his desk, and it wasn’t covered with his own notes. In fact, the gray metal table was surprisingly tidy, given that Blake was sorting information. It made the room seem cold and unfriendly, kind of like the sheriff’s attitude.
The walls were brick but there were nice pictures, albeit cheap ones, hanging on two of the walls, images of a forest stream and one of the Atlantic. It smelled only of their coffees, one more sour than the other, and not of the body odor that the other room smelled of. Taran knew that even in that he was lucky. He’d been in interview rooms that smelled of piss and shit.
Even the suspected criminals in Corbin Meadow had a basic level of self-restraint.
Mattie had set about turning on all the lights because Earline left the backrooms in the dark. Taran listened as Mattie’s shoes clacked against the floor. She was probably in heels again, although Taran had tried to tell her to wear flats in case something happened and she had to duck out quickly. Not that such a thing had ever happened in Corbin Meadow, but he wanted his employees to be safe. Mattie refused to listen.
“You finished the interviews?” Blake asked, leaning down to open a briefcase as large as an overnight case.
“I sent the report,” Taran responded. “Not sure there’s anything else to say.”
Blake nodded. “So basically you’ve got nothing?”
“Like the ones from two years ago,” Taran said.
“Has it been that long?” Blake asked while he looked down at pile of papers he’d just placed neatly on the table rather than looking up at Taran.
“Just over two,” Taran said.
“Think there’s anything in the timing?”
Taran shook his head. “We put the crimes through the data base and got nothing, so this would only the second time it’s happened. No way to determine if it’s random or if it’s a pattern.”
“Anything not in the reports?” Blake asked.
Taran told him the story he and Zoe had concocted about her seeing a shadow. Blake didn’t need to know Kay might come to town and help, but he should know that Zoe was in danger.
“But you saw nothing?” Blake said.
Taran shook his head.
“Anything in the yard when you went out?”
Taran shook his head again. He hadn’t really been looking, not after what he’d heard, but he wasn’t going to share that with Blake. He was only talking to him about Zoe in case something happened to her.
Taran kept himself from shivering at that, just. He realized he didn’t want anything to happen to Zoe, not that he’d ever wanted something to happen to anyone in Corbin Meadow, except maybe to Merle Manford, one of the meanest SOBs up the mountain who had an accident-prone wife. Unfortunately she refused to ever suggest her husband had anything to do with her accidents, though everyone knew he did.
But Zoe…Zoe was reaching him in a way the average citizen didn’t. Now here she was, in danger, and he didn’t have a clue how to keep her safe beyond trying to talk his ex-wife into staying in town. First, though, Kay had to get to town where she could be talked to.
Blake sighed. “Almost a clue. I didn’t see anyone from the earlier incidents reporting anything at all.”
“Zoe’s not lived here in a long time. A shadow like that, on a day like yesterday, I can’t imagine anyone else around here noticing. But Zoe lived in a city,” Taran said, giving an off-the-cuff explanation, hoping that he wasn’t over explaining and drawing suspicions from the Sheriff. He didn’t need the man looking at him.
Blake just nodded, oblivious.
They discussed a few things. So far the lab was coming up empty as far as finding anything. Even the garden trowel had no prints on it. Though they had ascertained that all were the same style, there were no clues to help them find the manufacturer.
“Isn’t that strange?” Taran asked, thinking about it. Didn’t manufacturers all mark their products?
Blake shrugged. “It’s possible that these are mass produced somewhere. Trowels aren’t all that different, but most have some sort of mark on them to indicate who made it. Helps the stores know if it could have been their inventory. So it’s a little strange. I’m not sure what kind of lead it is.”
Taran nodded. But it added something to what he knew. It was just another piece that made no sense and made him wonder if the creatures he’d seen in the vision were actually behind the murders. If that was true, how did he protect the town against something like that?
Chapter 26: Before
The world was dark and sad until Kay came along two years after Dixie lost her boy. The doctors had called her a miracle baby, certain Dixie would never have a child again. After talking to Emrys, she’d lain in the yard for hours before her husband came home to take her to the hospital, her very survival in question. Dixie didn’t remember that part, but she did remember the follow-ups and the concern that her body wasn’t meant to have children.
Lorne, of course, was wonderful, holding her as she cried, whispering words of comfort when she blamed herself, but how could she tell him that she really was to blame? Hadn’t it been when she’d asked Emrys to leave her children alone that she’d fallen into the slump and her baby had died?
Dixie had floated the idea of leaving town, even moving to Hickory, but Corbin Meadow was home to Lorne and while he might not be of ‘the Blood’ as Emrys said, his family was there, his life was there, and he wanted to live his life among friends. Dixie couldn’t argue with that.
Outwardly, she took the loss as well as any young woman, but she had an odd confidence that she’d have a daughter someday, when it was right. When she was pregnant again and when she delivered her baby girl, perfect in every way, the townsfolk admired her trust in God and talked about what a wonderful faith Dixie had had through her troubles.
It was only when Kay was in her crib napping, having gotten on something of a schedule, that Dixie went to her yard and closed her eyes against the warm sun that threatened to blind her and concentrated on the smells of the lavender that was taking over the little plot of yard where she’d planted it, the rosemary having been removed after getting old and woody. She listened to the cicadas as they played their summer tunes and breathed in the air, thinking about Emrys.
“It’s been a long time, Child of the Blood,” he said when climbed over her fence, as if he’d been a long way away and had not expected her call.
“I didn’t want to give you a chance to harm my child. Not again,” Dixie said.
“I didn’t harm your child,” Emrys said, affronted. “You made me promise to protect them, even from myself, and from the disappointment that I am not all powerful.”
Emrys looked at her sadly, his eyes huge with surprise. It should have looked comical, the wizened creature who normally looked rather sinister trying to look empathetic, but instead it was comforting. He clearly had had no idea that Dixie was blaming him.
“I had nothing to do with that. It was just the time, the time I warned you would come,” Emrys said.
“But you could have told me then!” Dixie protested. “You could have told me I should call an ambulance that day!”
“I cannot see all the future. Only the future that pertains to me and this land. I knew there would be a girl because I know she will be the force that holds me together when it seems all is lost. When and how is beyond me. And I sensed that you would have sorrow over a boy child, though not the when or the why.” Emrys seemed humbled as he spoke, as if the misunderstanding pained him greatly and he wanted to make amends.
Dixie considered her next words, hoping to keep him in that mood for as long as possible. After all, a humbled Emrys, one who wanted to make amends, might let something slip about how she could use his power to further her own wishes and dreams.
“I didn’t know,” Dixie finally said quietly. “I just wanted to be sure that my daughter wasn’t in danger from you.”
“She’ll never be in danger from me,” Emrys said. “There are others that could endanger her, and if she has no idea I exist, if I am to stay away, I am not sure she can protect herself.”
“I’ll be the one protecting her,” Dixie said.
“And when you are gone?” Emrys asked.
“Will I die soon?” Terror reached through Dixie’s body, her need to go and protect her child at the forefront. She couldn’t leave her.
Souls Lost (Appalachian Souls Book 1) Page 10