Her brows drew together. “Chanting.”
Zion’s pulse raced. She would never trust him if she knew he’d kept some of his stuff and used them in dire times.
“Zion?”
“I think you’re imagining things. The fatigue is getting to you.”
She gave him a knowing look.
“Are you using evil magic to try and protect our son?”
“It’s not evil!” He took a deep breath. “I know you don’t understand it, but you also know I respect you. You saw me throw out many family heirlooms.”
“They’re more than heirlooms. That stuff…” She shuddered.
He kissed her cheek. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you or Emmett. Never.”
“I know you don’t think that stuff is dangerous.”
“Do you trust me?”
Rowena just sighed.
“Do you?”
“I want to.”
“And you have no reason not to. Maybe we should rest.” He rose and helped her up.
“How is resting going to help Emmett?” Her eyes were full of defeat.
“Because we can’t do anything useful if we’re exhausted and upset. We’ll take a nap, then figure out what to do.”
“I want to go to that asylum!”
Zion kissed her forehead. “We can see if the police will take us, but it’s a crime scene for a reason. They’re trying to figure out what happened there. If we go, we could mess up evidence that could otherwise point to where the boys went.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I hate just sitting around.”
“So do I. After we rest, we’ll figure out something to do. Post more pictures online. Call the media about the press conference. Schedule an interview. We have a lot of options.”
“But will any of it bring back Emmett?”
“We won’t know until we try, and we need to be rested first.”
“I hate this.”
“So do I.” He put his arm around her and guided her up the stairs and into the bedroom. “Do you want to put on something more comfortable?”
She slid off her heels. “I don’t really care.”
He found one of her silk pajama sets and helped her into it. As they climbed into bed and nestled together, he thought of Emmett and knew she was thinking the same thing. Or was Rowena thinking about the voodoo, wondering if she could trust him?
She rolled over and rubbed her temples. “Can you get my sleeping pills?”
“Are you sure?” He hated for her to take them because of the addiction factor.
“Please.” She pleaded with her eyes.
Zion couldn’t say no to that. He got up and brought her the pills and a glass of water.
“Thanks.” Rowena took them and fell asleep before long, and that was when Zion finally let himself release silent tears. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come.
He waited until he was sure Rowena was in a deep sleep, then he crept out of bed. She didn’t even flinch. He headed downstairs, first checking to make sure his study was locked. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong with the voodoo. He was sending protection to Emmett. Not sending harm to anyone, not even those responsible for keeping the boys from coming home.
In the dining room, Zion glanced out the window to the side yard. The plants needed trimming, but that would have to wait. He was about to head into the kitchen when something caught his attention.
Larry was out front again. Zion studied the grumpy neighbor. He’d never seen someone who could look so angry while gardening. It was a relaxing hobby. Peaceful. Apparently nobody had told Larry.
Zion’s mind wandered back to the conversation with him that morning. He’d acted weird. Shifty. Like he was hiding something.
Maybe it was time for another chat. Find out what was going on once and for all.
He went over to the nearest mirror and raked his fingers through his hair. It had gotten messy while lying in bed.
Outside, he forced a smile and waved to Larry, who scowled in return. Some people were meant to live in the middle of nowhere, far from neighborhoods.
Zion kept his smile as he moseyed over to Larry, preparing what he would say. “Have you heard anything?”
“About what?” Larry turned back to his flowers.
“My son.”
“What about him?”
Anger churned in Zion’s gut. He did his best to ignore it. “Emmett’s missing.”
“Oh, right. Kids these days get into so much trouble.” Larry stood up straight and looked Zion in the eye. “Parents just don’t hold them accountable anymore. They get away with everything.”
It was like he wanted to get punched in the face.
“We parent him just fine. Have you heard anything about him? Anyone talking?”
Larry wiped his brow. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Do you know where he is?” No point in beating around the bush when the guy acted like he was hiding something.
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
Larry narrowed his eyes. “If you want to accuse me of something, why don’t you say it outright?”
Zion stood taller. “Okay. You clearly don’t like my son. You don’t care that he’s missing. Did you have something to do with his disappearance?”
Larry didn’t pull his gaze away. “No, I did not. I have no idea where he would’ve gone, but I do hope you find him safely. Pardon me, I need to check something in my shed.” He walked away without another word.
Zion sighed, not sure what to make of the old miser. He made his way to the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. Several neighbors were out, tending to their yards or watching their little kids play.
He made his way, talking to each person but coming up empty-handed. Nobody had seen or heard anything. Emmett had sneaked out, and not one person could recall seeing him drive away.
Zion was about to head back inside when Morgan pulled into his house. As soon as he got out, Zion waved him over.
Morgan trudged over, looking as exhausted as Zion felt. He was suddenly ready to take that nap with Rowena.
“How are you two holding up?” Morgan asked.
Zion rubbed his temples. “Rowena’s sleeping, and I’m about ready to join her. Our neighborhood watch is useless.”
Morgan frowned. “Nobody saw a thing.”
“Not even the nosy ones.” Zion glanced at Larry’s house. “Where were you?”
“Back at the school, asking if anyone had heard anything new.”
“And?” Zion leaned against his car.
“Nothing…” Morgan’s voice trailed away.
“I sense a ‘but.’”
Morgan nodded. “Something doesn’t sit right with me about one of the teachers.”
“A teacher?” Zion’s interest piqued. “Which one?”
“Ms. Johnston.”
“Don’t think I know who she is. What’s suspicious about her?”
Morgan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I hate to make unfounded accusations.”
“If something doesn’t sit right with you, you have to look into it. What is it? Maybe I can help.”
“She seems awful close to Atlas. Too close.”
Zion gave him a double-take. “You mean a teacher-student relationship?”
“That’s the feeling I get, but she denies it.”
“You asked her outright?”
Morgan nodded furiously. “You’d better believe it. She had two of Atlas’s prized pens. Two.”
Zion’s hopes for an actual lead fell. “He could’ve just dropped them. Emmett loses ten pens a day, I’d wager.”
“No, these pens are important to Atlas. He won those at that computer competition.”
“I remember.” Zion nodded. “The green ones. He showed me. And you’re right, he was really proud of those.”
“Exactly. And the teacher had two of them. But that isn’t all.”
“Really?” Zi
on leaned forward, eager to hear more.
“I found a necklace with her initials in Atlas’s room. It even smelled like her perfume.”
Zion arched a brow. “You smelled her perfume?”
Morgan glared at him. “She wears a lot of it. It was hard to miss.”
“You might be on to something. We’d need more to win a court case, but she would have motive to go after them. Atlas, at least. Have you gone to the police?”
“No. I just found the necklace before I went to the school to ask her. It’s not much to go on, and if I’m wrong, that’s a serious accusation.”
“Let the police decide that.”
Morgan tilted his head. “You think there’s enough evidence to go on? Some pens and a necklace? She emphatically denies any wrongdoing.”
“Of course she does. She—”
A little red sedan squealed around the corner, going at least twice the speed limit. Down the street, parents yelled at the driver to slow down. The car sped toward Zion and Morgan, seeming to aim for them.
Zion jumped onto his lawn first, then a split-second later Morgan followed.
The car screeched in front of his driveway, jerking forward as it stopped.
“What the hell?” Zion marched toward the car.
A heavy-set brunette woman with stringy hair and a cigarette in her mouth lumbered out. Zion recognized her right away, but had no time to say anything before she screamed profanities at him.
Morgan turned to Zion. “You know this freak show?”
“Know is a little strong of a word.” He turned to her. “How did you get out of jail, Ellen? And how did you find my house?”
“I have my ways, even though you keep yourself unlisted!” She got in his face and called him names that would make his Marine buddies blush. “And to answer your other question, have you heard of bail?”
Zion put up his hand and distanced himself. “You need to calm down before I call the cops.”
“What, you gonna get me put away for life like you did my husband?”
Zion turned to Morgan. “Call the cops.”
Ellen whipped out a pistol and aimed it at Morgan. “Oh, no you don’t! This thing is loaded, and I ain’t afraid to use it.”
Morgan’s face paled, and he stumbled back.
“What do you want?” Zion demanded. “And put that gun away!”
She stepped closer, pushing it toward his face. “Doesn’t work that way. You’re gonna do what I tell you!”
“What do you want?” he repeated.
Ellen waved the pistol like a lunatic. “Get my husband out of jail!”
Zion spoke slowly to try and calm her down. “That’s out of my hands. We can fill out some paperwork and get the process started.”
“That will take forever! I want him out now.”
“Unfortunately, that isn’t how the system works.”
She stepped closer, leaving only an inch between Zion and the gun. “The system is broken. I’m not going to wait months or years.”
“You’re going to have to, unless you want to end up back in jail.”
Behind her, Morgan pulled out his phone.
Relief washed through Zion and he gave a little nod.
Ellen’s eyes narrowed and she whipped around, pointing the pistol at Morgan.
He dropped the phone.
She shot the gun.
17
Lila James
* * *
Lila’s heart stopped and her stomach dropped to the floor. She squeezed the window sill and screamed. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.
Across the street, the bullet flew past Morgan, barely missing his shoulder. It shot across the road and shattered the back window of her car.
Her knees wobbled and her hands shook, but she managed to run from the living room to the entryway and open the front door, though she fumbled with the knob. She raced across the street, not caring that more bullets could be flying in her direction. “Morgan!”
He turned around, his eyes wide and his face pale.
The crazy woman pointed the gun at Lila. “Who are you?”
Everything froze. Lila couldn’t find her voice. She stumbled. Nearly fell.
Pow! The sound of the gun echoed around in her head before she comprehended the reality of the gun going off.
Morgan crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her. They hit the ground.
Thunk! Her head. She and Morgan rolled. They stopped with him on top of her, protective like a shield. A metallic odor filled the air. Something warm and sticky dripped onto her arm.
Two more shots rang out.
Lila found her voice. “Are you okay?”
“She got me.” His normally strong voice wobbled.
“What?” Lila didn’t recognize her shrill voice. “Where?”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
“Who called the cops?” yelled the crazy woman. A car door slammed and tires squealed.
Lila squirmed out from under Morgan, her heart pounding at least twice the normal speed. She rolled him onto his back. “Where were you shot?”
Blood pooled on his shirt. It covered hers. Stuck to her arms. Drenched her shirt.
“Morgan!”
He reached for his arm, between his shoulder and elbow, and moaned.
“Somebody help us!” Lila covered the spot with her hands, squeezing to stop or at least slow the bleeding.
The sirens grew louder. Closer.
Zion ran over and knelt next to them. He said something, but Lila could only focus on Morgan. Terror ran through her at the thought of losing him.
He looked up at her. She leaned closer and held his gaze. “Hang on! Do you hear me? You’re going to be just fine!”
Two police cars rounded the corner in the opposite direction the shooter had gone, followed by an ambulance.
“Help is here,” she told Morgan. “They’re going to fix you up!”
Uniformed people raced out of the vehicles. People spoke. Someone pulled Lila away from Morgan. She grabbed his hand and stared at him. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you!”
The medics circled around him, blocking Lila’s view. She moved around to see, but there were too many of them.
“Lila!”
She spun around.
Zion stood next to an officer. She looked familiar. Lila didn’t know why. Nothing made sense.
Why was Morgan on the street, shot?
“Can you tell me what happened?” asked the officer.
“Someone shot my husband!” Lila turned to look, but couldn’t see anything around the medics.
Her legs gave out and everything spun around her. The ground came closer.
Hands grabbed her before she hit the pavement. Zion pulled her over to her yard and helped her sit.
A medic came over and checked her out. She could barely pay attention as she tried to look around him to see Morgan.
Once the medic was done, an officer came over and introduced herself. She asked them questions, which Zion mostly answered. Lila stared helplessly as the medics lifted her husband onto a stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance.
“Morgan!” She reached out for him.
Zion put his hand on her arm. “I’ll drive you to the hospital as soon as we’re done here.”
“I need to go now! That’s my husband.” Tears blurred her vision. “They’re taking him away.”
“They’re taking care of him.”
“Who was that psychopath? Who shot Morgan?”
Zion grimaced. “The wife of a client. She’s angry about her husband being in jail.”
The officer made notes. “What’s her name?”
“Ellen Waterman. I have her address and other information at my office.”
“What office would that be?”
“The Lancaster and Powell Law Firm. But she was also arrested and released on bail, so you probably have all that at the station, come to think of it. I’m not thinking straight.”
&n
bsp; The officer nodded. “Understandable. I have just a few more questions, then hopefully you’ll be free to go to the hospital to check on the victim.”
“Hopefully?” Lila gave her a double-take. “Why do you say that?”
“There may be more questions needed. Possibly a trip to the station, however this case seems pretty cut and dry.” She glanced down at her notes, then back to Zion. “Ellen showed up at your house and threatened you with a gun? Then fired shots?”
Zion nodded. “She thinks I can get her husband out of jail. She fired at Morgan and missed.” He pointed to Lila’s shattered car window. “Then Lila ran outside to Morgan. Ellen shot again. The bullet hit Morgan’s arm, then that tree.”
Lila looked in the direction he pointed. A hole now decorated their Japanese maple tree.
The officer scribbled more notes. “Any other shots fired?”
“Two more,” Lila said. “They didn’t hit us.”
“Where did those bullets go?”
Zion pointed down the street. “She shot at some of the neighbors, but missed.”
“Can we go now?” Lila rose to her shaky feet.
“Almost. We need to collect your clothes as evidence.”
Lila frowned. “Then you’ll let me see my husband?”
She nodded. “That’s all we need from you for now. I’ll just need to accompany you.”
Lila sighed, then stumbled toward the door. She took slow, steady steps, trying to ignore her guest. The officer followed her silently and pretended to look away as Lila undressed. She took slow, ragged breaths. Everything seemed to spin around her as she stripped off the sticky clothes.
Once the officer left with her clothes in a bag, Lila grabbed a washcloth, wet it, then wiped Morgan’s blood from her body before going upstairs to her closet and getting dressed.
How could this have happened? Her husband shot while their son was missing. It was worse than a nightmare.
And she needed to tell the twins what had happened. How was she going to do that? Especially since she didn’t know where she’d left her phone. It was probably downstairs where she’d been when she first heard the commotion outside.
Lila hurried downstairs. Her purse was in the kitchen, but the phone wasn’t there.
She traced her steps to the window where she saw the crazy woman aim the gun at Morgan. Lila’s phone lay on the floor, face down. She must’ve dropped it without realizing it.
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