by Ann Charles
“You look as beautiful as always,” Aunt Zoe said, taking the stack of plates on the counter and handing them to Natalie. It was going to be a tight fit around the table tonight, so we decided to let the kids use TV trays in the living room.
“You’re biased, Zoe.” Natalie shoulder-bumped Aunt Zoe.
“She is but I’m not.” I grabbed silverware from the drawer, shooting Natalie a grin. “You’re so ugly the tide wouldn’t take you out.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well you’re so ugly that a cannibal would take one look at you and order a salad.”
I pretended to stab her with a fork, but she blocked me with a plate.
“Sorry about that, Natalie,” Cooper said after we’d settled down and he’d planted himself at the table. “Your lack of makeup threw me for a moment.”
I grimaced at his explanation. Somebody needed to school him on things NOT to say to a woman—well, a woman that he’s interested in for reasons other than dragging her off to jail.
“I just came from a swim workout at the Rec Center,” she told Cooper. She handed him a plate. “I could dim the lights if that would help.”
A lack of lighting wasn’t going to help Cooper on that front.
Doc and I exchanged knowing looks as I finished setting the table.
Cooper started to say something and then stopped, pinching his lips tight. He shook his head and focused on his beer, scratching at the label.
I had the feeling he was either trying to figure out how to remove his foot from his mouth, or he wanted to say something but was having second and third and fourth thoughts about letting the words fly. How many times had I been there and done that with Doc? Hell, I still bit my lip when it came to saying the L-word to him.
Unable to watch Cooper’s train-wreck pile up any longer, I laughed. It came out sounding sort of flat. “We’ve tried dimming the lights before, Nat, remember?” I handed Cooper a set of silverware, giving him a get-it-together look. “But you still stink even in the dark.”
She chuckled. “Damn. You’re on fire tonight, babe.” She patted Cooper on the back as she passed behind him. “She’s saved your ass twice now, Coop. You better be nice to her for a while.”
It was time for a change of subject, and I knew just the diversion. “I’m on fire because Detective Hawke lit my fuse this afternoon and scampered off without putting it out.”
Cooper snapped back into cop mode, his steely gray eyes locking onto mine. “I warned you about playing up the witch angle.”
Detective Hawke must have told him about our face-off outside of the gingerbread house.
“I couldn’t help it.” I gave everyone a quick recount of the detective’s visit, wrapping up with my Wicked Witch of the West send-off as Harvey set the platter of steaming chicken down in the middle of the table.
“Has something changed with the case?” Doc asked Cooper as he pulled out a chair for me, taking the seat next to mine. “Something to cause Detective Hawke to jump the gun when it comes to approaching Violet?”
“Well, sort of.”
“What?”
Both of my kids came pushing and shoving into the kitchen, fighting about who made it there first. Our conversation took a brief hiatus as I dished up their plates and Aunt Zoe went with them to make sure they were all settled in front of the TV.
Until she returned, we passed the serving bowls and dished up. Harvey removed his apron and took the seat to Cooper’s left, leaving the seat to his right for Aunt Zoe.
Aunt Zoe returned, and after making sure everyone had what they wanted to drink, she sat down and laid her napkin across her lap. “Where were we?”
“Coop was gonna tell us what changed.” Harvey dragged us back to the topic of Wanda’s death.
Personally, I wouldn’t have minded waiting to hear what Cooper had to say until after the truffles. More times than not the detective’s news came with a bonus of nausea—once it even induced vomiting. I frowned across the table at his tie, pretty sure that was the very tie I’d tossed my cookies all over.
“We went back through Wanda’s stuff and we found some notes,” Cooper said around mouthfuls of food. “Several notes actually, but they all said the same thing.”
That sort of reminded me of The Shining. What was it Jack had typed repeatedly in the midst of his craziness? Something about all work and no play made him a dull boy?
“Were they signed by anyone?” Natalie asked.
Cooper shook his head and then took a bite out of a chicken breast.
Aunt Zoe wiped her mouth with her napkin. “How many notes are we talking here?”
He held up five fingers.
Five notes that all said the same thing. That was sort of odd. “I suppose you’re going to tell us that what the notes said is police business.” I stabbed a forkful of green beans and stuffed them in my mouth. “Oh, man,” I looked over at Harvey. “You used real bacon grease in these, didn’t you?”
The old buzzard wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I don’t share my cookin’ secrets.”
Cooper took a swig of beer, setting his bottle down while glaring across at me. “We want what belongs to us.”
I paused, my fork midway to my mouth. “Come again?”
“You wanted to know what was on the notes. That’s what each one said. Those six words were handwritten on paper. Sound familiar?”
Holy shit! My fork clanged onto my plate. I knew those words too well but for a different reason, one I’d not told Cooper last month when we’d been in the morgue behind Mudder Brothers. It was time to let the detective in on another secret.
“Violet,” Aunt Zoe’s voice cut through the rush of noise in my head. “What’s wrong?”
I pushed to my feet, holding my hand out when Doc started to rise with me. “I’ll be right back.”
I took the stairs to my room two at a time. Inside my bedroom, I tore through my dresser drawers and then went through the pockets of my coats hanging in my closet.
Not there or there. Where in the hell was it? I made myself slow down. Breathe. Now think.
Oh yeah. I lifted my mattress and pulled out my old diary.
Flipping open the cover, I frowned down at the slightly crumpled note.
There it was.
Back down in the kitchen, Harvey had dished up a second helping on his plate. Everyone else seemed to be holding off, waiting for my return.
Doc stood as I drew near. I handed him the crinkled piece of paper. Recognition made him nod, but his face was crisscrossed with lines when he handed it back.
“These notes you found at Wanda’s place,” I said to Cooper, who was watching me like he was trying to read the tag on the back of my shirt. “Did the handwriting look like this?”
I handed him the note I’d received back in September right after Doc had bailed me out of jail. The note had been stuffed into my purse, which had been locked away in evidence while I had been ranting and raving behind bars.
Cooper stared down at the note without blinking. When he looked up at me, his squint was full of distrust. “Where did you get this, Parker? From Wanda? Because if memory serves me right, those six words were left with your business card in the morgue when that body disappeared. If you somehow sneaked in the Evidence cage and—”
“It’s mine,” I interrupted Mr. Suspicious Pants.
“What do you mean it’s yours?”
“I mean someone put it in my purse, Detective.” When he continued to doubt me with his eyes, I jammed my hands on my hips and squinted right back at him. “Someone who works at the Deadwood Police Station with you.”
Chapter Five
“So, what do you think?” I asked Doc and Natalie later that evening as we stood on Aunt Zoe’s front porch. Deadwood was quiet tonight, the cold keeping everyone inside all locked up and snug.
“I think it’s freaking freezing out here.” Natalie shivered, pulling her sheepskin lined coat tighter around her. “Why can’t we talk about this in the house where it’s warm?”
“I don’t want to risk the kids hearing.”
“They’re in bed.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re sleeping.” Especially Addy, whose young ears could pick up the sound of ants walking across the carpet some days. “They tend to eavesdrop more the later it gets.”
Doc leaned his shoulder against the porch post, staring down the street to where Mr. Stinkleskine was letting his little bark-a-matic do his business on a light pole one last time tonight. “What do we think about what?” he asked.
“Does Cooper believe the handwriting on that note isn’t mine? Or is he going to run and tattle to Detective Hawke so the two of them can tag-team on my ass and ensure the next time I’m behind bars I stay there for a lot longer?”
“I think he believes you,” Natalie answered first. “Especially since Doc was there to witness you pulling the note from your purse.”
I glanced at Doc. I had fudged on my alibi a bit. Doc actually hadn’t been standing there next to me that day I’d found the note in my purse. He’d been inside the police station talking to Cooper while I waited outside at his Camaro. But we’d driven straight to Aunt Zoe’s place from the station and I’d shown him the note, so it was only a smidgen of a lie.
“He sure didn’t act like he believed me.”
The detective had glowered through the rest of supper and passed on dessert, opting to take my note with him and return to the station to compare the handwriting to the other notes. He wanted to be certain it matched. I had a sick feeling in my gut that it would.
“Cooper sees the bigger problem here,” Doc said, his gaze shadowed when he looked my way.
I did too, but I wasn’t keen on voicing it, not even inside of my head. “You heard Aunt Zoe,” I told him. “We can’t be sure that whoever killed Wanda is the one responsible for sending those notes. It could be a coincidence.”
I really hoped that was the case, but I was relatively certain I was screwed here.
“Is that better or worse?” Natalie asked. “If they aren’t one and the same, then you may have two whack jobs after you.”
“They can get in line.” There was an albino juggernaut and another milky-eyed bone cruncher in front of whoever had written that damned note.
“What do you think the note’s author is talking about?” Natalie asked. “What’s worth killing Wanda for?”
Doc jammed his hands into his pockets, pulling his shoulders inward. “It’s too soon to tell. When I followed Cooper out, he mentioned that they were still sorting through the crime scene.”
“Did he happen to tell you how she was killed?” I asked, wondering if there was any weapon left behind like there had been with Jane.
“No, but I didn’t ask. He’ll tell us when he can.”
Doc had a lot more patience than I did.
Natalie’s teeth started to chatter. “I can’t quite wrap my mind around it all tonight.” She pulled out her truck keys, jingling them. “I think I’ll head out. I have to go down to Rapid in the morning, so I need to hit the hay early tonight.”
I walked her to the bottom of the porch steps. “Thank you for the trophy mirror.” I smiled in spite of the creepy note business. “I wish I could have seen Rex’s face when he realized it was gone.”
“I have big plans for your ex. I’m just getting started.” She gave me a quick hug goodbye and then strode toward her truck, saying over her shoulder, “See you later, Doc. Keep her out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m only mortal.”
She laughed. At her pickup, she tossed back, “Call me tomorrow if anything exciting happens.”
“Don’t be surprised if it’s a collect call and you hear Cooper snarling in the background.”
With a wave, she slid behind the wheel of her pickup. I watched her drive off before climbing back up the porch steps.
Doc had moved. He stood back in the shadows now, leaning against the house. “Come here, Boots,” he said quietly.
I stepped easily into the safe circle of his embrace, resting my cheek against his sternum. I’d wanted to do this since I’d learned about Wanda’s five notes, but I’d held myself in check while under the watchful eye of Aunt Zoe and Cooper. Executioners weren’t supposed to want to hide in someone’s arms, were they?
His heart thumped steadily in my ear. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m better now.”
“Hold on a second.” He reached down and unbuttoned my coat, and then pulled me against him, settling me between his legs. My chest flattened against his, body heat doubling. “There, now we’re both better.”
I chuckled and went up on my toes to kiss the underside of his jaw, feeling a slight scratch of stubble on my lips.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
But then I changed my mind, because I’d rather speak my fears and worries while here with Doc than toss and turn and fester about them alone in my bed until the wee hours. “Whoever wrote that note wants the book on Kyrkozz enough to murder for it, don’t they?” I whispered.
I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head. “That’s my guess.”
Back in August, I’d taken a book about a demon named Kyrkozz from the Carhart house. It had belonged to a crazy, demon-loving bitch named Lila who’d tied me to a chair and had planned to use the book to raise a demon so it could borrow my womb to procreate. Thankfully, Wanda Carhart had shown up before the demon had arrived and she’d helped me escape. After a night of hair-raising moments, Wanda and I had made it out alive, and I’d procured the book as a parting gift. My reason for taking it was simple—if Lila had succeeded somehow and Kyrkozz came looking for me to finish what she’d started, I might need what was written on the pages to save those I loved from something much worse than a crazy, demon-loving bitch.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“You mean what should we do?” Doc’s hand rubbed up and down my back. “You’re not alone in this.”
“You sure you don’t want to take this opportunity to run the other way?” I joked, but there was a serious question hidden in between the words.
“Are you kidding? And miss out on all of this fun? No way, Killer. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
When he said stuff like that, I was his slave to do with as he pleased—whips, chains, thumbscrews, the rack, even Harvey’s favorite strawberry love goop. I didn’t care. Although I drew the line at cooking.
“I think we should see what Cooper comes back with before doing anything on our own.”
I nodded, conceding to the police on this one. “I remember him telling me that Lila was part of a group out of Yankton who had some tie to demonology. You think they are the “WE” in the messages?”
“Maybe. But how did that note get into your purse at the police station?”
“They must have members here in Deadwood.” I burrowed my nose into his soft shirt, breathing in the woodsy scent of his cologne. As usual, the smell of his skin made my pulse start to skip and whistle.
“Have you seen anyone else with that goat-melting-into-a-pig tattoo Lila had?” he asked.
“No. But I’ll start keeping an eye out now.”
“I’ll do the same at the Rec Center. Tattoos are very visible there between the exercise room and pool.”
I looped my arms around his neck. “Of course you’ll only look for these tattoos on the men.”
He chuckled. “Of course.” His hands moved up my ribs, the heels of his palms brushing along the sides of my bra. “I don’t want to leave you tonight.”
That made two of us. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”
“But I have to head down to Hill City in the morning for work, so I need some sleep.”
This wouldn’t be a problem if we moved in with Doc. He wouldn’t have to leave me until morning light. But how could I begin to broach that subject when I couldn’t get up the nerve yet to tell the guy I
was in love with him.
“You could stay in my bed, wake up early, and then go home to shower and shave before hitting the road.”
“Tempting.” He leaned down and kissed me, taking his time about it, like he was in no rush to finish any time this evening. When he finally pulled back, I hung from his neck like a weak-kneed groupie.
“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” My lips pulsed still, pumped up and ready for more.
“I took an online course.”
I giggled and fanned myself, trying to lasso my heart and drag it back into its stall. “You must have seduced a lot of women in your time with those lips.”
I knew a certain redhead who couldn’t stop obsessing about him. The longer I was with Doc, the more I understood why. Had he kissed Tiffany that way?
“Not really.” He traced my jawline. “You inspire me, Boots.”
“Yeah, well,” I love you, “better a great kiss than some mediocre poetry.”
“What? You don’t want any sonnets extolling your beauty?”
“I’d rather have more kisses.”
“Me, too. That’s why I can’t stay in your bed tonight. There’s no way I’ll get much sleep and we both know that. It’s been too long since I’ve had you all to myself.”
“What good is sleep? I’m saving it for when I’m dead.” I let out a short, hard laugh. “Which could be sooner rather than later at the rate I’m going.”
“That’s what scares me, Killer.” His tone was suddenly serious.
This time when he kissed me, there was more urgency. His touch was rougher, more demanding. His hands spanned my hips and then gripped me tight, his body hard against mine, aggressive and demanding.
I let him mold me against him, moaning when his hands slipped under my shirt and moved northward. “Doc,” I gasped up at the porch ceiling. “Take me to bed.”
“We can’t.” His thumbs stroked over the front of my bra. “You said yourself that your kids have big ears.”
“I can be quiet.” At least I could try.
He groaned at the press of my hand at his zipper. “I can’t.”
“But I want you to touch me.” I whispered in his ear where and how and then nibbled my way down to his collarbone.