by Shannon West
There was a pause for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer me. Then he looked up at me.
“Yes. We saw you go in her shop, Noah. You were inside for about five minutes and then you left. No one else came in her shop for hours either before or after.”
I jumped to my feet, feeling blindsided and betrayed. He’d told me I didn’t need to worry about a lawyer. “Bullshit! That’s impossible! I never went down to her shop. I never left The Donutery that entire afternoon until I left for the day. I have witnesses, dammit. It had to be somebody else!”
“It was you on that CCTV footage, Noah. I know what you look like.”
“I’m telling you it wasn’t me!” I was getting pretty loud and a deputy poked in his head and raised an eyebrow. Nick waved him away.
“Okay, settle down. Don’t get so excited.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“You haven’t been charged with anything. So far, we’re just talking.”
“Not any more, we’re not. I’m done talking until my lawyer gets here.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No. But I sure can get one.” I glared at him angrily. “Am I allowed to go now?”
“You’re not under arrest. Like I said. You can leave whenever you want to.”
“Well, I want to.”
He sighed and gestured toward the door. I stormed out. My hands were still shaking by the time I got back to the shop.
****
I called my grandmother when I got in the car, and she promised to call the lawyer who had defended her against the charges brought by the florist a few months back. She was pretty fired up when I told her about the camera footage of me going in Ms. Covington’ shop and immediately she blamed the “demon.”
“That damn demon must have taken your form! It can obviously appear anyway it wants to. Just you wait, honey, we’re going to send that thing back to hell where it belongs!”
“Okay, Gran.” My head was pounding, and I was hurt and damn it, I was heartsick. I didn’t feel like arguing with her anymore. I knew—had known for a while—that Nick didn’t think anymore about the friendship we used to have. That it didn’t mean the same to him as it had to me. But for him to think I could have murdered someone? I could never—would never—have thought the same of him. He’d tried to trap me, fool me into making some kind of confession or declaration of guilt without a lawyer present to help me or tell me to keep my mouth shut.
I guess I’d thought the fact Nick never acknowledged our old relationship when I first arrived back in town was because of anger and hurt feelings. The fact he never smiled at me or acted like he even knew me, really, was because he’d been angry and maybe even embarrassed by how we’d ended things between us all those years ago. Except now I knew it wasn’t like that at all. I had meant nothing to him all along, and the reason he didn’t want to renew any kind of friendship with me had been because I’d never meant anything to him and still didn’t.
I was a little trembly and sick with pretending it didn’t bother me, and now my grandmother was talking about demons again and showing unmistakable signs of…what? Dementia? Psychosis? Somehow Rose had it too and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it.
“I’ve got to get back to work, Gran, but I’ll try to come home early today. We really need to talk some more.”
“Yes, we do. I’m glad you’re finally seeing the light.” She hung up before I could say that wasn’t what I meant at all. I’d actually been thinking about contacting her doctor and planning how to broach the subject. I sighed and drove on to the shop, feeling depressed and miserable over Nick’s betrayal.
I’d known he didn’t feel anything for me anymore, but damn it, I thought maybe for old time’s sake at least he would still consider me a friend. Who was I kidding? I’d still been nurturing a tiny, little flame of hope way deep down inside me for years. It was stupid and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to help it. Despairingly, I could feel that little flame sputtering and burning out.
When I got back to the shop, I threw myself into work and tried to keep busy all afternoon. Mostly, I was going through the motions, mad at myself for letting this hurt me so much. Really, Nick couldn’t have been any clearer about how he felt about me. What did he have to do to get the message across to me? Hire a plane and write it across the sky? I sighed again and wondered if he’d finally managed to convince me this time.
By five o’clock, I’d closed the shop a little early, putting up the “closed” sign on the front door. I let Tina go home, and asked her to drop off the cash deposit at the bank, while I was totaling up the credit card sales. It was maybe thirty minutes later when I heard the bell over the door ring. I turned to say, “Sorry, we’re closed,” and the words died in my throat.
Nick Moody was twisting the lock in the door and turning to lean back against it. He stared at me broodingly as the seconds ticked by, and I felt my voice dry up in my throat. He began walking slowly toward me. It felt a little like he was stalking me. “We need to talk, Noah.”
“N-no. No, we don’t, not without my lawyer present.”
“Fuck that and fuck your lawyer.”
Because I thought I should show him I wasn’t scared of him in any kind of way, I came out from behind the counter to meet him, lifting my chin defiantly. He kept walking toward me until he was only inches away. He reached for me then, shocking the hell out of me as he grabbed my shoulders and leaned down right in my face. I stared up at him, wide-eyed, and he crushed his lips to mine and thoroughly kissed me. Kissed me until I couldn’t get my breath, and my head was spinning. Kissed me until I moaned helplessly and sagged into him and his arms were around me, keeping me steady against the warm, hard planes of his body.
Since my eyes were still wide open, looking up into the handsome face that had tempted me and tortured me for years, I saw the moment he pulled back a little, staring down at me with heated eyes that raked over my face.
“Damn you, Noah. Why? Why do you have to look like this? Why do you have to be so…?” He groaned and kissed me again, rougher this time, sliding his hands into my hair and pulling on it a little. “This fucking blond hair…you’ve been driving me crazy with it.”
His tongue swept back inside my mouth and every sane instinct I had was screaming at me to pull away, abort, abort! But how the hell could I when everything I’d ever wanted was finally here holding me in his arms? Nick sighed against my lips, licked them and then bit down hard on the bottom one.
I pulled away in shock, shoving at his chest. I didn’t move him an inch, and he stared back down at me unapologetically.
“You bit me!”
“I did,” Nick said, smiling down at me. “Sorry…couldn’t help myself.”
I touched it with my fingers. “I think you drew blood.”
Nick sobered instantly, his eyes contrite. He lowered his lashes to half-mast, glancing down, then back up, looking at me from under them. A few of the brain cells in my head collapsed in a dead faint. “Should I kiss it and make it better?”
“Hurts,” I said with a pout and what was meant to be a forbidding frown. I think the effect was ruined though when I couldn’t quite catch my breath. He smiled and lowered his head to mine again. I held up a finger in front of his face. “No more biting.”
He placed a chaste little kiss on my fingertip. Then another one at the corner of my mouth. Then he kissed the other corner and licked over my bottom lip where he’d bitten me and gently sucked it into his mouth. I could feel my legs going out from under me. He felt it too and he hummed appreciatively and settled me more closely in his arms.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for way too long.”
“The kissing or the biting?”
“Yes,” he said and smiled. Then he bit my neck, a little harder this time.
“Ow! What was that? You just couldn’t help yourself?”
“Sure. That’s what happened,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Why did you storm out of my office like tha
t today? What the hell did you think you were doing?”
The reminder made me try to pull away, but he held me fast in his arms. “No, you don’t. You don’t get to keep running away from me. I’m tired of chasing after you. So tell me what you’re thinking, because you’re not going anywhere until you do.”
I huffed out a little breath and pushed out my lips in a pout again, because he was looking at me, and I knew an appreciative gaze when I saw one. “I-I was mad. I thought you were trying to trap me into some kind of confession or…something. I asked you if I needed a lawyer and you said no.”
“Because you didn’t. I have no idea how someone manipulated that footage, but I knew it was a lie. I knew you couldn’t have been the one on that tape. Because you can’t be in two places at the same time, and I was there for at least fifteen minutes after Julie Covington left that day. I can vouch for your presence there the whole time. The time stamp on the footage was five minutes after two, which would have been a few minutes after she left that day with Adrianna Reinhart.”
“Then how did my image get on that camera?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. And I’ll find out—but you have to trust me to do it, Noah.”
“I trust you. Kind of…”
“No, you don’t and you never really have, but that’s a discussion for another day. Now, we need to talk. Not here though,” He glanced around us. “Too public. Close up the shop and follow me to my place.”
“Y-your place?”
“That’s what I said. We need some privacy. Get in your car and follow me. I’m parked in front.”
I did as he asked, or rather as he ordered me to, stopping for a minute to call Gran first and let her know I’d be home late. She was full of questions I carefully avoided. Quickly, I finished closing and went out and got in my car so I could follow Nick to his place. I realized as we were traversing the quiet, nearly empty evening streets that I had no idea where his place actually was now. His father had retired, and he and Nick’s mother had moved down to Florida, according to my gran. So I was a little surprised when he pulled into his old driveway, not far from the lot where my family’s old house had been.
Nic’s family home looked the same as I remembered, except for a new coat of gray paint. The lawn was pristine and well-cared for. I parked behind him and followed him inside. The house had been completely remodeled, with walls knocked down for an open floor plan, and new oak floors gleaming under recessed lighting. The kitchen, now separated from the living area by a large island, had granite countertops in black and gray and there were new looking appliances.
The sitting area was sort of stark, with just a black leather sofa, but one of those vast wrap-around things that look like they could seat ten people easily and with room to spare. He had some modern art on the walls too, and some glass and chrome tables. Not really my style, because left to my own devices, I’d have added throw pillows and rugs and bright colors and other frou-frou shit that would have no doubt totally ruined the ruthlessly masculine vibe he had going on.
“Wow, Nick, this looks...amazing.”
“Thanks. I remodeled a few years ago, after I bought the house from my parents. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure, if you do.”
“I like a glass or two of wine in the evenings.”
“You do?”
He smiled. “Is that so surprising?”
“You used to be strictly a Coors man.”
He got down a bottle of red wine from his cabinet. “People change.” He glanced over at me. “But I still like a beer every now and then. Would you rather have one?”
“No, wine is fine. Thanks.”
He poured two glasses of the Merlot and handed one to me. I took a sip and made appreciative noises as I sank into the surprisingly soft coziness of the leather sofa. “This is nice.”
I was curious about what he wanted to talk about. I knew what I wanted to talk about, but I figured his topic of conversation would probably have something to do with Julie’s murder. Considering my new “involvement” in the crime, I was definitely interested in hearing what he had to say, though I wouldn’t have minded a little more of what he’d started in the shop with that kiss. I was still reeling from that.
He settled himself across from me in a matching leather chair, and for a moment, just sat there and stared. I felt a little self-concious and squirmed under his regard.
“Why did you let your hair get so long?” he finally asked. “I was surprised to see that when you came back for your parents’ funeral.”
I had found a hat in my car on the way over and stuffed my hair up under it. It was much shorter than before I cut it, but it was still a little shaggy. I wondered if it was sticking out somewhere and nervously tucked away a loose strand over my ear. “I don’t know. Does it bother you?”
“I didn’t mean I didn’t like it,” he said, his voice a little husky. “It’s just different and kind of…” He gestured vaguely and then cleared his throat. “Anyway. I’m sorry about what happened at the station. I could have handled that better.”
“It’s okay.” I said, like I hadn’t been having a hissy fit and wallowing in the depths of despair over it just an hour or so earlier.
“No, it’s not. I didn’t mean to scare you. Tell me, Noah, who in this town could be trying to pin a murder on you? Do you have any idea?”
“No, I have no idea. I really don’t.”
“You said you barely knew Julie Covington. Did you know anyone in her family?”
“No. I saw her for the first time I can remember at the repass thing after Ms. Millican’s funeral.”
“And you don’t have any enemies you can think of? Anybody who might have some kind of grudge against you?”
I shook my head helplessly. I honestly couldn’t think of anybody. I laughed a little, feeling nervous. “Up until a little while ago, I’d have said you did.”
“Me? No. Far from it, in fact.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and looked down at my glass, swirling the ruby liquid around in my glass. “So do you think the footage from the CCTV was manipulated?”
“I guess it had to be, but I don’t know how. I’ve got some people looking into it for me. Had you visited the antique shop in the last week or so?”
“No, I’ve never been in there.”
He shook his head. “I confess I’m at a loss, but then I’m not an expert on this kind of thing. I intend to find out though.”
“And in the meantime? Am I still going to be under suspicion?”
“This is my office’s investigation, Noah. So the answer is the same as before. You couldn’t have been in two places at the same time. I saw you at the shop with my own eyes. I didn’t see you leave, and the people you work with have corroborated your whereabouts all afternoon too. The shop isn’t big enough that they could have missed you for any length of time. Let my investigators work on it some more.”
“Okay, but in the meantime, I think I should tell you my grandmother is finding me an attorney. Just in case.”
He took a sip of his wine and regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. “Speaking of your grandmother….what’s going on with her lately, Noah? She’s been…erratic…for a while now, but she seems to be getting worse.”
I banged my glass down on the table, a little too hard. I guess I was still feeling defensive. I’d been wondering the same thing about her myself, but I didn’t like it when other people noticed. “Your grandmother has been right there with her every step of the way.”
“Don’t get touchy. I know my grandmother is mixed up in whatever this is too, but that doesn’t make it any better. What’s going on, Noah?”
I deflated a little. “I don’t honestly know. I mean, I do. They told me—but if I tell you, it’ll just make you think all of them are even crazier.”
“Tell me, and we’ll see. If my grandmother is mixed up in something, I
need to know about it.”
I couldn’t really argue that point, so I sighed and started talking. “It all started with Emma Mae Millican’s death. My gran and some of the other members of their little book club think…” I broke off my story and he raised an eyebrow.
“Think what?”
“My gran thinks that she and my aunt Rose and Ms. Millican somehow raised a demon when they were making a pie for the group from some old recipe book that used to be in my family. And they think a demon came out of the book and killed Emma Mae.”
I’d read about “pregnant” pauses—those gaps in the conversation that happen after somebody has said or done something so outrageous that it leaves the person who heard it literally speechless. It was kissing cousin to the awkward silence in the room we were currently experiencing as Nick stared at me disbelievingly. I had literally rendered him speechless.
He frowned, opened and shut his mouth a few times and then recovered enough to tilt his head to the side and say, “Do what now?”
“I know how it sounds, but that’s what they all think.”
“A demon?”
“Yes.”
“Our grandmothers?”
“Yes. And all their friends in the book club they belong to. They claim they saw it happen.”
He was silent for way too long, and just when I was wondering if he had zoned out, he said it again, like he was trying the word on for size. “A demon. Conjured up while they were making a…?”
“A pie, yes.”
“Hold up. They told you this? They actually said the word ‘demon?’”
“Yes.” I nodded unhappily. “They’re convinced it happened. And that this demon killed Ms. Millican. I don’t know if it was some kind of mass hysteria thing brought on by the shock of her death or what. But that’s why they broke into the funeral home. They told me they had the idea that if they buried the recipe book along with Emma Mae Millican, it would get rid of the demon too. But that all went wrong and now they say the demon is back. And they think he’s trying to kill them now so he can get the book.”