by D'Ann Lindun
The oldest of the group spoke. “Her husband said she can’t come back until somebody figures out what happened to Monique. He says he doesn’t want something bad to happen to her.”
“My husband doesn’t want me here either,” a tall thin brunette told them. “But I told him there wasn’t any danger.”
“I agree, Lisa,” the oldest lady said. “This is a safe little town, and I refuse to cower in my home shaking in fear.”
The last of them—Brenna? —spoke up. “My dad drove me. He’s waiting in the car for tonight, but he said until Tina and Carly are found, I can’t come back here, or go to the library, or anywhere else without him or my mom.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.
Jamie studied the group. Three ordinary looking women ranging in age from about seventeen to early sixties. The teenager stood out with her hair dyed tar black and enough heavy eyeliner for three girls. Several heavy chains, one with an enormous cross on it, hung from her neck. Almost hidden under the pile of silver was a thin chain Jamie guessed held a Celtic cross similar to January’s.
On closer inspection, she noticed all four women wore a necklace with only the chain visible. She’d bet last month’s grocery bill they all matched January’s own.
January motioned toward Jamie. “We have a new member. This is Jamie English, our new sheriff.”
Why had January included that bit of information? Was she warning her friends on what to say in front of her? None of them seemed shocked or fazed as the introductions were made. Lisa Rogers, the tall brunette, was an accountant. Alice See, the older lady, retired. And Brenna, the teen.
“Nice to meet you,” Jamie said. “I’m sorry to hear you’re afraid to come out, or your husbands and families are afraid for you, anyway.”
“Monique Ayers was one of us and it bothers us she’s not here.” Lisa’s warm brown eyes filled and she swiped at them with a hankie. “Have you gotten any leads on her location?”
“Not yet. Anything you can tell me that might help find her? Monique was a member of your group here?” Interesting fact. Jamie filed that away for future digging. Daralee’s son believed Tina and Carly had been the witch girls, but it was the housewife instead who belonged to this bunch. Whether or not they were a coven remained to be seen.
“Yes she was,” Lisa said. “She’s my best friend, but we all adore her. We’ve been over it a million times and we can’t figure out a single thing that would make Monique leave her baby.”
Was it Jamie’s imagination, or did she catch Brenna and January sharing a quick, guilty look? Feigning casual, she said, “Maybe she ran off with the milkman.”
“Not a chance,” Alice told her. “Monique was so crazy about that new baby of hers, she would barely leave him long enough to come here. She was on maternity leave from the post office, but considering turning in notice so she could stay with the baby permanently.”
No news there. They’d been told that time and again.
None of the others had any new information, and their attention turned toward their book.
As they began to discuss their reading material, Jamie mulled over the facts she’d just learned. At first glance, this group of women looked like any other. Normal ladies with only a love of books in common. She glanced at their choice again. Nothing weird, suggesting murder or the occult. Just an Oprah book club selection. But appearances could be deceiving.
About an hour later, Brenna stood and headed toward the door. “I gotta go. My dad’s waiting.”
“Hey, hold up a minute.” Jamie handed the teen a card. Then passed one to the others. “If you think of anything about Monique or the other women, please call me.”
“I will,” Brenna promised and fled.
The others continued to chat for a few minutes before gathering their things and leaving.
Jamie waited for them all to go before turning to January. “So, how do I go about joining your coven?”
January didn’t miss a beat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sheriff.”
Jamie smiled. “Really? I was under the impression this was a coven. A place for modern-day witches to meet. I would like to be part of it.”
The cotton-blonde studied Jamie with cool disdain. “And why should I believe you?”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Jamie shot back.
The ex-supermodel moved about the room, extinguishing candles. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
Jamie blew out a frustrated breath. “Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both, I’m afraid.” January stopped and faced her. “Even if I were a witch, and I’m not, I wouldn’t invite you to join my coven.”
In spite of herself, Jamie was wounded. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not on the same plane, Sheriff.”
“How do I get on your plane? Buy a ticket?”
January roared with laughter, the sound surprisingly rich and deep coming from such a thin woman. She sobered and said, “No. Spiritually, you and I are far apart.”
“I believe in a Higher Being,” Jamie protested.
“I’m sure you do, but you’re not Wiccan material.” January reached for the thin silver chain around her neck and slid it between her fingers. “Not yet, anyway.”
“You could teach me,” Jamie said.
January moved to the door and opened it. “Goodnight, Sheriff. I’ll see you in two weeks, assuming you have a true interest in joining our little book club.”
With no choice but to leave, Jamie stepped through the door and it clicked firmly behind her.
CHAPTER SIX
Tad Carver sat in the computer room in the Sheriff’s Department, staring intently at the computer screen. He’d been to the same site that showed January Devlin’s famous swimsuit pictures a million times. In one of them, she was topless, but had her arms crossed over her tits. That made him furious. If she was going to bare them, then she ought to go all the way and let him see everything, not just a glimpse of side boob. He grabbed the mouse and scrolled in tight on her bare right breast.
Slutty bitch.
From the moment she’d moved to town with her uppity ways, he’d wanted to bring January Devlin down a few pegs. Even worse than the girls who had grown up around here, who turned their noses in the air like they smelled something bad when he approached them, she acted as if he was invisible.
He couldn’t believe a supermodel had moved to Confluence. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of celebrity hangouts like Aspen or Telluride. The closest thing to a star landing in town were over- the-hill bands and the second-string cowboys who came to the pro rodeo during fair week.
So far he hadn’t gotten his chance to show her what he was made of. The perfect opportunity hadn’t presented itself. The two times he’d managed to chat with her, she’d been as cold as her name. She’d acted like she couldn’t wait to get away from him, as if he’d had some disease.
He’d give anything to be the cop who’d caught her the time she’d been speeding her little sports car outside of town, but it had been Benny Torres who pulled her over. Benny had seemed unimpressed, though. When Tad pressed him for details, the other cop had gotten all tightlipped. Asshole. In Torres’ opinion, if a woman didn’t have brown skin, she wasn’t good enough for him.
Tad didn’t believe for a nanosecond the Mexican cop didn’t find January Devlin hot. Only a blind man couldn’t see her icy beauty. He couldn’t wait to bring her down a few pegs. What he wouldn’t give to watch a man teach the bitch her place. Being the man who made a supermodel grovel would make up for a lot of shit girls had spoon fed him over the years. It would almost make up for all the girls who’d turned him down when he asked them out.
Finding a way to make that happen was the hard part.
With a frown, he closed the site and went to his favorite girl-on-girl porn site.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jamie drove toward home, her hands wrapped in tight frustration around the steering wheel. She’d learned absolutely nothing new and missed tucking
Dani in bed to boot. She’d dropped Dani at her mom’s place and they’d agreed it was best if the little girl spent the night there. Rae insisted having her granddaughter around kept her from constantly worrying about Big Jim.
Restlessness filled Jamie. Going home alone held no appeal. Neither did The Moon. She longed to visit somebody, but most of her high school friends had moved away from Confluence to bigger cities and exciting careers. Most were married, or dating. Something Jamie had no desire to do.
Most men Jamie had met were like Lance—irresponsible and self-centered. Her thoughts turned to Austin Varner. He seemed like a man a woman could lean on. If he’d let them get close enough, that is. He had this air of keep-away-from-me that was almost a physical barrier. She shrugged. No matter. She wasn’t looking for love, or anything else.
As she closed in on her office building, she noticed a light on in the downstairs computer room. Who could be there this time of night? She turned into the front parking lot and turned off the engine. She reached for her gun, and realized she was unarmed. Because she’d gone to the book club in a dress, she’d left her weapon at home.
After what happened to Big Jim, her senses were on high alert.
Using the keypad at the front, she let herself inside and flipped on the lights. Under the bright lights, she relaxed. Everything looked normal. She hurried down the hall toward the computer room. The door was closed and she hesitated for a minute. Then, with her shoulder, she shoved the door open and stepped through it.
Before she knew what happened, a beefy arm wrapped around her neck and she slammed back into a wall of man. Stunned for a second, she didn’t react. Then her self-defense training kicked in and she dug her right elbow into the man’s thick gut and stomped her sandaled foot on the top of his boot. Neither action did much more than elicit a grunt out of him.
Frantic, she twisted in his arms and used her elbow again.
“God damn, boss. Will ya quit hitting me?”
Carver. Suddenly loosed, she fell forward. If a desk hadn’t stopped her momentum, she would have fallen to the floor. She caught herself and spun around. Fury filled her as she looked into the unrepentant face of her deputy. “What the hell, Carver?”
“I thought you were an intruder.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
“Like hell.” She glared at him but he didn’t look away. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night, anyway?”
He didn’t blink. “Research.”
“What kind of research?”
“On the women. What you asked me to do.” He glanced at an open computer and Jamie followed his gaze. She caught a glimpse of a naked woman’s backside. His chubby cheeks blazed. “Just following a trail.”
Keeping her voice steely, but quiet, Jamie said, “You better not be using this office’s computers to view porn. Because if you are, I’ll have you out of here faster than you can say dirty minded.”
He fisted a big hand as if he were going to hit her. “You can’t do anything. The town trustees hired me. They have to fire me, and they’re not going to as long as my Aunt Betty is one of them.”
He was right, but she refused to back down. “Get out.”
“Make me.” He outweighed her by a hundred pounds and towered over her by at least two inches. Without a weapon, she was helpless and they both knew it.
“Want to issue that challenge to me?” Without either of them hearing him approach, Austin appeared in the doorway. He took another step closer and he looked like the grim reaper. His silver eyes burned and his stance reminded her of a cougar she’d seen close in on a deer once. She shivered. If Carver was willing to stand up to Austin’s contained fury, he was more man than she gave him credit for.
“I don’t have any fight with you,” Carver muttered. “I was just leaving.”
Austin moved aside just enough so that the bigger man had to brush him as he left. They stared at one another like a pair of stallions squaring off until Carver broke eye contact and almost ran down the hall.
“You okay?” Austin turned her way.
She nodded. “Yeah. What are you doing here?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you. What are you doing here?” She moved toward the computer Carver had left running. When she saw what he had been looking at, her stomach clenched. Two nude girls, barely legal, entwined together in a sexual pose.
“I saw lights and your truck. I stopped by to see what you were doing.” He stepped close and looked over her shoulder. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah. Fine.” His nearness made her hyper-aware of the nude bodies on the screen. Did he get off on this sort of thing, too? Girls young enough to still be in high school, with big fake boobs and hair, daring or desperate enough to show their bodies off on film?
Austin reached for the mouse and hurriedly clicked through the images Carver had been viewing. They got nastier as one after another showed girls in every sexual pose imaginable. In spite of her revulsion, Jamie’s body responded to the sexual imagery, and the man standing close enough to touch her. His unique scent, one of leather and the outdoors, filled her senses. She swayed a little, and her shoulder bumped his. The brief touch sent shivers skittering up and down her spine.
“Turn it off,” she said in an anguished tone. “Enough, already.”
He obliged. “Looks like Carver’s a little hard up.”
She turned so her behind rested against the desk. Inches separated them. “I guess so.”
His icy eyes mesmerized her, almost as if she were under his spell. Silver with dark rings around the outer edges, they reminded her of a faraway planet. One she’d like to visit. Her tongue touched her bottom lip, and his gaze followed the movement. She could smell his minty breath…had he brushed his teeth after her spaghetti?
Her thoughts turned elsewhere as his lips came close, touched hers. It was the briefest of touches, not even a real kiss, but her pulse turned into a wild horse stampede. Her hands hung by her sides, useless. Her eyes fluttered shut and she stood still as a dress mannequin.
Then, just like that, it was over.
He pulled back, leaving her desperate for more. She opened her eyes and his cool stare made her blush. Had she just imagined that whole encounter? Had she wanted him to kiss her so bad she made it up in her mind? She touched her lips with a fingertip. Yes, his mouth had been on hers. She knew it. She craved it.
Instead of explaining his actions, he said, “Carver’s an asshole in general, but you made an enemy of him tonight. Watch your back.”
“He choked me when I came in,” she admitted.
“He did what?” Austin’s voice could have frozen an Eskimo’s nose. “Carver put his hands on you? In this office?”
Mute, she nodded.
Austin muttered a really filthy word under his breath. “Show me.”
“What?” He’d lost her.
“Demonstrate what he did.” He sounded so angry she thought he must be vibrating with rage.
Pointing to the door, she said, “I came in, and he put his arm around my neck and jerked me against him.”
“Come here.” Austin moved back to an open space. When she obliged, he turned her around and put his arm around her neck much like Carver had. Except there was no malice in his touch. Her body rested against the hard length of his. The top of her head came to just under his chin. At five-ten, there weren’t that many men who she could do that with. Dani would say they fit together like peanut butter and jelly. The thought made her giggle.
“Something funny?” he growled in her ear.
“Not at all,” she managed as a wave of heat flooded her.
“A man ever touches you in a way you don’t like again, and your hands are free, reach up with your palm and slam his nose into his brain.” He took her hand with his and demonstrated.
She fought to concentrate on what he was showing her, and not how his hand on hers made her all squishy inside. Or the way she wanted his mouth on hers again.
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br /> He demonstrated three or four times, then released her. She turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Haven’t you ever had any self-defense training?”
“A little.” Once again, she felt inadequate. Confluence, like most small towns, had a tiny budget. Not much of it for training.
“Don’t worry about Carver. He won’t bother you again.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t say anything to him. That will only make it look like I can’t take care of myself. Please, Austin, leave him alone. Promise me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll leave it for now.”
His protectiveness thrilled a tiny part of her, a place she refused to acknowledge. She didn’t need a man to take care of her, and if she ever forgot that fact she was in deep trouble. With a mental shrug, she changed the subject. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you. When I saw your vehicle, I thought I’d stop in and see what was up.”
She moved away from him. “Now you know.”
He eyed her floaty dress. “Why are you dolled up? After I left your place I figured you and Dani were settling in to watch some TV before hitting the sheets.”
Suddenly self-conscious of her bare legs, she sat, wishing her ankle-length dress was longer. “I went to January Devlin’s book club because Daralee’s son heard around school it’s a coven. It seems Monique Ayers was a member. So is her best friend.”
With a raised brow, he asked, “Did you find anything worth knowing?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Do you think there’s any truth to the rumors?” He perched a hip on the desk opposite hers. The denim of his jeans stretched tight over muscular thighs and she had to force her gaze away.
“All the women wore matching necklaces.” She touched the silver chain resting on her own neck. “Celtic crosses.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.” She had a gut feeling, no concrete evidence, but Jamie would bet a month’s salary those women were exactly what Daralee’s son heard they were—wiccans.