When The Rooster Kills (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 2)

by Jeff Shelby

  “Yeah?” he said hopefully. “Did he have any leads?”

  “A few,” I said. I didn’t offer that the lead the sheriff was currently chasing was a dead end. “I told him what I knew. About you.”

  He blanched. “About me?”

  I nodded. “Uh huh. Your reason for being in town—you know, getting money from Leslie’s stepdad. The sheriff was very interested to hear about that. I told him about Tori, too. His thinking was the same as mine.”

  “Wh-what’s that?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “That you came here to get money from Leslie’s stepdad. And that something went wrong.”

  “Well, it did. Because my girlfriend disappeared!”

  “I know, Shawn,” I said. “And I think you had something to do with it. I think something must have happened. Maybe you and Leslie fought. Maybe you saw Tori here and panicked. And maybe you did something to Leslie to hide her from your girlfriend.”

  All the color drained from his face.

  I gave him a satisfied smile. I had him. He was like a deer caught in the headlights. All I had to do was call Sheriff Lewis and tell him to get down here to take his confession.

  But Shawn had other plans.

  He watched me as I fished around in my purse for my phone. And then his hand shot out and he grabbed my bag.

  “What—?”

  He started running with it.

  I chased after him.

  And quickly realized I’d been wrong earlier. I was not faster than him. My full stomach gurgled in protest as I ran after him, across the street at a diagonal and toward the field that bordered the west side of town.

  Shawn glanced back once, assessing my location. And then he wound up his arm and hurled my purse into the pasture. It arced in the sky, spiraling like a football before landing somewhere in the distance. Shawn watched it land and then took off in the opposite direction.

  It was a calculated move. A smart one. I had to give him credit for that.

  Because when push came to shove, he knew what I would go after if given a choice.

  I let him go and raced into the field, desperate to retrieve my purse.

  THIRTY TWO

  I had my purse back, but I was pretty sure I’d left my dignity somewhere in the field.

  Shawn had disappeared, again. He was turning out to be an expert at running off when things got tough.

  Part of me wanted to chase after him in the car. But the other, saner part of me just wanted to go home and forget the whole day had happened. Between my meeting with the sheriff to the almost-broken stove, to my confrontation with Shawn, it had been a whopper of a day. A hot bath and a full glass of wine to call it a night was all I wanted.

  I was a few miles outside of Latney’s downtown, almost at the exact same spot where Shawn’s tent had sailed across the sky the night before, when I spotted a car parked off the road. I tapped the brakes, slowing just a little. It was a tan car, parked on what looked like an overgrown gravel drive. I hadn’t noticed the driveway before, as some of the grass growing between the pebbles was knee-high, bordered by brambles and trees on either side. Driving by at nearly fifty miles an hour didn’t allow for much time to scrutinize.

  But I was looking tonight, slowing down to nearly a crawl, because the car was familiar. And the person visible behind the steering wheel was, too.

  Tori Wilkes.

  Shawn’s almost-but-not-quite ex-girlfriend.

  She wasn’t looking at me. Her head was down, as if she was studying something in her lap, but I could tell it was her. The brown ponytail was visible, as was the hint of nearly white make-up visible on her face.

  I kept going past her, keeping my head focused straight ahead. But as I drove by, I swiveled just a little, just enough so I could glance at her. She didn’t even look up.

  I felt bad for her. Sure, she’d come to town to spy on Shawn, but she’d had her reasons for following him here. She’d suspected him of cheating and she’d been right. I remembered our conversation from a couple of days earlier, when she’d asked me if I knew anything about him. I hadn’t said a word, and the guilt I was now feeling because of this ate at me. Why had I protected that slimeball? Why hadn’t I just come right out and told her everything I knew?

  I was in front of my driveway when I made my decision. I needed to come clean and tell Tori what I knew: that Shawn was in town with his current girlfriend, and that she had gone missing and that I considered her boyfriend the prime suspect, even though the sheriff did not.

  I pulled into my driveway and immediately backed out again, steering the car so I was headed back down the stretch of road I’d just come from.

  The sun was low on the horizon, the sky already streaked pink and purple in anticipation of twilight. I drove slower than normal, taking the curve with my foot on the brake, ready to slow down as soon as I saw her car in the gravel driveway.

  But it wasn’t there.

  I frowned. How had she left in a minute’s time?

  I shaded my eyes and peered down the road. I could make out the soft glow of taillights and said a silent prayer that it was her. I needed to get this off my chest, as soon as possible.

  I debated pulling over and calling her. I had her phone number—she’d put it in my contacts herself—but that felt like a cowardly way to tell her, especially considering the news I had to share. No, it would be better to tell her in person. A phone call was taking the coward’s way out, and she would be dealing with the biggest coward I knew once she had the details on Shawn.

  I pressed down on the gas, just enough to bring the other car back into view. It was definitely Tori. I did my best to stay back, close enough so I wouldn’t lose her but far enough away so that it didn’t look like I was following her. Of course, we were on the main road that led back into town, so it wasn’t like me being behind her would raise any suspicions, but it helped ease the anxiety that was beginning to build in my gut.

  Downtown Latney was mostly deserted. There were a few cars parked outside the Wicked Wich, along with some bikes propped against the wall of the ice cream parlor. There were two small bistro tables out front, white, wrought iron ones, and both were occupied. Otherwise, though, the streets were quiet. It was early evening midweek and I was sure most people were home having dinner and winding down from their workday.

  Tori cruised past the few blocks that comprised the downtown area, and then turned right, in the direction of Len Konrath’s daughters’ house. I felt a new twinge, the anxiety ratcheting up a notch as I remembered what had transpired in the shed behind their house. I hadn’t thought I was suffering from any post-traumatic issues over my near-death experience at the hands of Davis Konrath, but driving on that road again was bringing those memories front and center.

  I relaxed a little as Tori continued on past the house, but then got to worrying again. Where on earth was she going?

  Maybe she was leaving town. In that case, I might be following her back to another state. Perhaps a phone call would have to suffice. My sole goal in tailing her was to tell her the news about Shawn in person. I didn’t want to have to cross state lines to do that.

  I reached for my purse and rooted around for my phone. My hand closed over the case just as Tori slowed. She used her blinker before she turned onto a dirt driveway.

  I kept driving, slowing a little and glancing to my right as her car trundled up the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust. A farmhouse was visible about a hundred yards away, its cracked and peeling gray paint visible from the road. One of the front windows had been replaced by a piece of plywood, and the front door itself looked as though it too was boarded up.

  What was Tori doing here? The place looked to be abandoned.

  I soon motored past, the farmhouse slipping out of sight from my rearview mirror. I was going at least forty miles under the speed limit, slow enough that a tractor commandeering the road would mow right over me. I picked up speed, and as soon as I came to a cross street—a dirt road that le
d to who knew where—I whipped the car around and headed back in the direction I’d just come from.

  By the time I got back to the house, Tori’s car was no longer visible. For a brief moment, I wondered if she was still there. Maybe she’d gotten lost or something and had just been using the driveway to turn herself around, much in the same way I’d just done further up the road.

  But then I saw a flash of light emanating from behind the house, something that looked like a flashlight. Which was weird, because even though we were well into the evening, the sun hadn’t set yet. There was no need for a flashlight.

  Tori.

  I pulled off to the side of the road, my car listing into the ditch. I tucked my phone in my pocket and left my purse on the floor underneath the passenger seat. I manually locked the car, slipped my keys in my other pocket, and crossed the road.

  I hurried up the driveway, craning my neck as I walked, trying to see what Tori might be doing behind the house. The beam of light was now gone, but I knew where it had originated from and I kept going in that direction, crossing from the driveway to the parched, yellowed grass that served as a front yard. The rain from the previous day clearly hadn’t helped revive it. The only green spots were patches of crabgrass and dandelions, and even these were wilted and beginning to brown, as if they, too were succumbing to neglect.

  The house looked to be in even worse shape up close. The wood siding was cracked and warped, and the gray paint bubbled in places, exposing bare, mildewed wood. Only one window was boarded up but it looked as though all of them needed to be, considering there wasn’t a single one that wasn’t cracked or broken. A weeping willow had been planted close to the house and its branches draped over the sloped roof, its branches dangling like wispy tentacles, dancing in the breeze.

  I shivered. I was glad it wasn’t dark because the house and the grounds were creeping me out.

  Tori’s car was parked off to the side of the house, pulled over in a patch of gravel that seemed to serve as a makeshift parking space. At least this was evidence that she was there.

  My shoes crunched the dried, dead grass as I made my way to the back of the house. A squirrel scurried up the trunk of a massive oak tree, then launched itself from a low branch to what looked to be the remnants of a garage. The roof was half caved in, and if there was a garage door attached, it wasn’t visible. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any point of entry to the ramshackle building, at least from my vantage point.

  I scanned the yard for Tori, but she was nowhere to be found.

  “Tori?” I said.

  Crickets and a chorus of frogs responded.

  Where had she disappeared to? And, more importantly, why was she there?

  I circled back to Tori’s car. Maybe she was still inside and I’d somehow missed her? It wasn’t likely, but I couldn’t think of many other options. The house was completely boarded up and the garage didn’t look accessible, so I didn’t know where else she could be.

  “Tori?” I said again as I approached the car.

  A series of thumps echoed in response.

  I jerked my head up. I said her name again, a little louder.

  More thumps.

  They were coming from inside the car.

  My pulse ratcheted up a notch and I stepped closer, almost afraid to peer through the windows.

  The inside of the car was empty.

  The thumps sounded again, and I jumped back.

  They were definitely coming from the car. The rear of the car. The trunk.

  The latch was within arm’s reach.

  I reached out a shaky hand, not knowing what to expect as I pressed the release, and the trunk popped open.

  A red-faced Shawn stared up at me in surprise.

  THIRTY THREE

  “What are you doing?”

  It was a stupid question, but I was at a loss for words. Why was Shawn in Tori’s trunk? And, more importantly, how had he gotten there?

  He gaped at me. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Did…did Tori put you in her trunk?”

  He didn’t respond because at that moment, Tori appeared. She was strolling back to the car, a package of Oreos tucked under her arm, munching on one as she scrolled through her phone with her other hand.

  I cleared my throat and she looked up. Her expression immediately morphed into a scowl.

  “What are you doing here?” she growled.

  “The better question is, what is he doing in your trunk?”

  She glanced at Shawn, the scowl still firmly in place. “He has some explaining to do.” She redirected her gaze back to me. “Why did you let him out?”

  I stared at her. “Because he was locked in your trunk. Unwillingly, by the looks of it.”

  It occurred to me that I wasn't sure anyone had ever been willingly locked in a trunk, but I didn't want to debate the point.

  Shawn was nodding his head. His color had almost returned to normal, but his blond hair was matted to his head and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

  “Why were you in the trunk?” I asked him. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his voice shaking. “I was just walking down the road, minding my own business, when she pulled up behind me. Started screaming at me and telling me she wanted to know the truth.”

  So far, I was in complete agreement with Tori.

  “I told her I could explain everything and she just poked her finger into my chest and told me I’d better. Then the next thing I knew, she popped open the trunk and shoved me and I fell backwards. And then you were calling her name and I started pounding and then you opened the trunk and…well, here I am.”

  “Yeah,” Tori muttered, “out of the trunk.”

  “Did you…did you kidnap him?” I asked.

  She pulled a cookie from the package and bit into it. “No. I offered him a ride so we could talk things over.” She waved the cookie in the air. “Him two-timing me didn’t seem like a conversation we could have on the side of the road.”

  “You didn’t offer me anything!” Shawn cried. “You threw me in the trunk!”

  Even though Shawn was thin, he still had a good twenty pounds—and several inches—on Tori. She either possessed an inordinate amount of strength, or he was a bigger wimp than I thought.

  “I offered you a ride,” she retorted. Her face was just as pale as ever and she reminded me of an angry clown. “And now we’re going to chat. About you and your other girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have another girlf—” Shawn began, but one look at my expression and he quickly shut his mouth.

  She threw her cookie at him. “Spill it! Tell me the truth!”

  Shawn looked at her with a pained expression. “You can’t handle the truth.”

  Dear. God. He either had no clue of Jack Nicholson’s famous line or he was purposefully making an absolute mockery of one of the most well known one-liners in movie history.

  She fired another cookie at his chest. “You have five seconds to tell me who she is!”

  Shawn’s response was exactly what I expected.

  With a glance at me and then at Tori, he took off running, sprinting past the willow tree and into the backyard.

  Tori screamed in frustration.

  I reached for her. “Tori, wait—”

  But she was off and running, too, her heavy black boots trampling the weeds and yellowed grass. She screamed expletives at him and began firing the Oreos at Shawn’s head in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

  I did the only thing I could think to do.

  I chased after them.

  I didn’t know what this would accomplish, but I was too invested now. I’d followed Tori to tell her the truth about Shawn and, in doing so, had somehow managed to rescue him from the trunk of her car. Even though I didn’t approve of her methods for getting information from him, I did believe she deserved to know the truth about her slimy boyfriend. And, more than anything, I wanted to witness his come-uppance. Beca
use when he finally did come clean about his relationship with Leslie, I was pretty sure he might come clean regarding her whereabouts, too.

  I’d lost sight of Shawn by the time I rounded the house and ended up in the backyard but Tori was still visible, still hurling cookies at him as she made her way through a thick bramble of raspberry bushes. I winced as I hit the tangle of vines, feeling the thorny branches brush against my hands and arms and snag on my clothes.

  Luckily, the bushes had slowed them down, too, because when I finally cleared them, they were both standing in a small clearing, chests heaving, unreadable expressions on their faces. I looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what I had missed.

  And then I saw what had stopped them in their tracks.

  A small building, no bigger than a shed. Wooden roof with missing shingles, and walls consisting of chicken wire.

  And sitting inside, a woman.

  Leslie.

  THIRTY FOUR

  “What are you staring at?”

  Leslie was addressing me.

  Her hair was damp and matted, her clothes covered in mud, and she was wearing the sourest expression I’d ever seen.

  I looked around, disbelieving. “You…you’re alive.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Now that the shock was wearing off, I took a minute to take in my surroundings. Leslie was sitting inside what might have at one time served as a chicken coop. One wall of the makeshift building housed a small wooden shelf, probably originally used for roosting or for placing nesting boxes. Right now, it was filled with snacks: chips, crackers, packages of cookies, a half-empty twelve-pack of Dr. Pepper. The ground, a mix of mud and straw, was littered with empty cans and wrappers. A single futon chair was tucked in one corner. Probably a light brown originally, it was now splotched with dirt and mud, much like the girl who was perched on the edge of it.

  Leslie was a mess. Her jeans hinted at their original blue color, but almost every inch of fabric was stained brown. There wasn’t a trace of make-up on her face, unless you counted the dust that was now serving as ill-matched powder on her cheeks and forehead. And a very angry looking rooster strutted around just outside the coop, as if it were on guard duty.