Slightly Spellbound

by Kimberly Frost

  “I need to see her injuries,” Smitty objected.

  “Like hell,” I said. “Out.”

  “Hang on.”

  “Please step out, officer,” Dr. Suri said. “I will document the injuries in her chart. Go now. I have very much to do here.”

  Smitty grumbled but left the room.

  Dr. Suri got me out of my ruined dress, which I kept silent about on account of him being a doctor and having already seen me naked once. When the half-Barbie voodoo doll fell out, his brows crinkled together. He picked it up and set it next to me.

  “Oh, my friend gave me that. She’s making homemade toys for the Houston Homeless. So far I think we’re better off buying them from a toy store, but she just keeps going on. Some people are stubborn as all get-out.”

  I wasn’t sure Dr. Suri believed a word of that, but I figured he’d just chalk up any crazy thing I said to my head injury. Sometimes concussions are handy.

  He washed my wounds, put bandages on them, and gave me a shot of antibiotics in the behind, which hurt more than the scatter from the shotgun blast had hurt my shoulder. He put me in a clean patient gown and wrapped a white sheet around me.

  Then he started asking me questions about who and where I was. I worried that if I seemed too out of it, he might ship me off to a Dallas hospital, so I answered all his questions right and added, “I’m feeling kind of better.”

  “I’m quite worried about you, Tamara. Quite worried.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Suri, but I’m doing okay. You patched me right up,” I said with a smile. “I sure appreciate it. And Bryn and I both appreciate you coming to see Mr. Jenson. He’s doing really well. He follows instructions. I’ll try to do better with that.”

  He nodded and gave me a bottle of pain pills. “I’ll come to see you both. I expect you to be resting.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, climbing off the exam table. “By the way, Dr. Suri, what part of India are you and Mrs. Suri from?”

  “Punjab.”

  “What’s it like there?”

  “Hot.”

  “Like here,” I said. “I told Bryn India’s kind of like Texas.”

  Dr. Suri laughed. “Well, the heat, yes, but it’s quite different otherwise.”

  “Sometime I’d like to see pictures and hear about what it was like growing up there. You think Mrs. Suri would mind if I came for a visit?”

  “No, she won’t mind. Unless you come before I say it’s safe for you to be out of bed. That she’ll object to very much.”

  “Got it. As soon as the police let me go, I’ll do my best to get to bed.” I tucked the Tammy Jo voodoo doll into the folds of my sheet and limped out of Dr. Suri’s exam room. Smitty turned me over to another deputy since he was going to wait on the cousin with the cuts. Just as Beau had done, the cousin said he didn’t know what had happened at the house. It was like everyone had a head injury.

  When I got to the police station, Zach was there in plainclothes. And Bryn was in Sheriff Hobbs’s office being questioned.

  The young deputy named Garth helped me to a chair and I perched on it, trying not to sit on the spot where my antibiotics were making me sore.

  Zach leaned against a post and listened.

  “I don’t remember what happened,” I said. It was what I answered every question with. When Sheriff Hobbs came out, I guessed Bryn had been just as unhelpful because the frown on the sheriff’s face stretched practically to his collarbones.

  “A man was shot three times, Tammy Jo. You know anything about that?” the sheriff asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Somebody shot him in the balls,” the sheriff said.

  I made a shocked sound. Zach raised an eyebrow.

  “My deputies and I all agree that that particular injury seems likely to have come from a woman. Now maybe she had good reason to shoot the man in the groin.”

  “Maybe she did,” I agreed.

  “But whatever the reason, the whole truth’s bound to come out.”

  I sincerely doubted that. Voodoo dolls, long-distance magic spells, sacrificing horses in black magic rituals? No, I didn’t think the Cajun witches and wizards would have much interest in telling what had really happened while they were in town.

  “Sure,” I said, nodding.

  “So why don’t you just tell us why you shot Beau Theroux?”

  “Me?” I asked with wide eyes. “Why in the world would I shoot him? It was probably one of those girls from Louisiana he had with him. Maybe he was two-timing somebody or something of that nature.”

  “Now, Tammy Jo, everybody out there had shotguns. And Theroux’s wounds weren’t from any shotgun.”

  “Maybe the people with other kinds of guns drove away. How many sets of tire tracks did you find?”

  “What were you doing out there?” the sheriff asked impatiently.

  “I don’t remember. On account of my concussion.”

  “What concussion?”

  “I got it today. Or I think I did. Dr. Suri said so.”

  “Who shot you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Deputy Smith said Dr. Suri plucked several pieces of buckshot out of your shoulder and arm.”

  “Was that what that was? And you say someone shot me?” I scratched my head, noted that my hair was stiff with mud and was standing up at odd angles, and stopped. “I wonder who it was. If you find out, I hope you let me know. I’ll give him or her a real piece of my mind.”

  Zach glanced down at the ground, but I saw the corners of his mouth curve up. I continued to look bewildered for the sheriff.

  The sheriff made an exasperated sound. “Sutton?” he said, whirling toward Zach.

  Zach’s smirk disappeared. “Yes, sir?”

  “You take this girl on home. I don’t trust these slippery—these tourists from Louisiana, and I doubt whatever happened out there was settled tonight. They could decide to pay her a visit to keep her from remembering what really happened, and the town council would never let me hear the end of it if I let someone from Duvall get killed in their own house. Come to that, neither would my wife. You take Tammy Jo home and you stay with her till I’m satisfied.”

  I protested, but the sheriff cut me off.

  “None of that from you, missy. You’re out of your head from a concussion. If you don’t behave, I’ll have Dr. Suri sedate you. From what I hear, he was madder than a hornet that you were out of bed at all.” The sheriff adjusted his gun belt. “Go on, Sutton. I’m going to have another talk with our local lawyer. See if I can’t get something useful out of him.”

  So it was a conspiracy, then. Sheriff Hobbs loved Zach like a son, and the whole town had heard that Zach was losing me to Bryn. This was the sheriff’s way of giving Zach another crack at me with Bryn conveniently out of the way. Unfortunately, while I blamed my crime-scene confusion on a concussion, there was nothing I could do about it.

  I had to hand it to Sheriff Hobbs. Sometimes he was as sneaky as Bryn.

  Zach pushed off the pole and strolled over to me. He held out a hand to me. I frowned and shook my head. Bryn stood in Hobbs’s office doorway, watching us.

  “I’m okay.” I ignored Zach’s offered hand, standing with a grimace. “I can walk by myself,” I said, limping. My leg and that shot in the butt really did smart when I moved. The pain was definitely worse now that the adrenaline had worn off.

  “I’m okay,” I repeated, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin. I could at least make it out the door before I had to stop for a rest.

  A second later, Zach swung me up in his arms.

  “I can walk.”

  “Yeah, I saw. You think I’ve got all night to watch you hobble three feet?” Zach asked.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Put me down,” I said under my breath.

  “I will,” Zach said, nodding at the deputy, who opened the door for us.

  “Right now. Put me down right now,” I said.

  “You worried about what your boyfriend’s going
to say?”

  “No, I’m worried about what he’s going to do.”

  “To you?” Zach asked, his voice suddenly dangerous.

  “No, to you.”

  Zach’s stride turned smooth again. “No need to worry about that, darlin’. Everyone in town knows I can take care of myself, including Lyons.” Zach opened the passenger door of his truck and set me inside.

  When he got in the other side, closed the door, and started the engine, he asked, “Did you shoot Beau Theroux in the balls?”

  “Yep.”

  “How come?”

  “He made me mad.”

  “How’d he do that?”

  “Shot me in the shoulder. Tried to shoot me in the face and threatened to do worse if he got the chance. I decided I’d arrange it so he couldn’t make good on his threats of a certain kind.”

  Zach put the truck in gear and smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  27

  I WAS NOT Zach’s girl, and we both knew it. I’d let him carry me out of the police station because there hadn’t been a choice. I wasn’t in any condition to kick and scream and force him to set me down.

  Now that I was at home, though, I didn’t a hundred percent trust us. Our final breakup was fresh, and I was determined not to let things get muddled. I sent an urgent text to Rollie, which said:

  Need help. Come over quick. Wear sequins. Thanks!

  If there was one way to unsettle a he-man football player cop from East Texas, it was to invite a cross-dressing vampire to the house.

  As Zach and I made small talk, I worried about Bryn. What did he think about Zach carrying me off like that? Was he upset? Did he trust me to be alone with Zach? How could I expect him to, when I didn’t?

  I sent Bryn a text.

  Hey, it’s me, Tammy Jo. Got home safe. Nothing going on between me & Zach. I told Rollie to come over. We—Rollie and me—will come 2 your house. Call if u need anything . . . bail money, another lawyer. A kiss. I love u. Bye 4 now.

  Zach didn’t come over to snoop into what I’d written, but he watched me send it. Zach’s not really much for spying. He’s more into straightforward confrontations.

  Mercutio, restless and angry, padded back and forth near the back door. I opened it, but he turned away, eyeing me and Zach.

  “What’s up with the wildcat?” he asked.

  “I suppose he’s on to something but isn’t ready to chase it down yet. Or maybe he’s waiting for me to recover a little. Merc’s not overprotective, but he knows when I’m good to fight and when I’m not.”

  “He’s your familiar?”

  “Kind of. It’s not like we read each other’s minds or anything. Or leastways, I can’t read his.” I cocked my head, studying Mercutio. “I can’t speak for him.” I concentrated. Can you read my mind, Merc?

  Mercutio glanced at me but didn’t answer. Instead he hopped onto the counter and into the sink so he could rest his paws on the windowsill and look out into the yard.

  “Thanks for the ride home,” I said.

  Zach crossed the kitchen and looked into the yard. Apparently not seeing anything of interest, he turned and came back to me.

  “Whether we’re ever together again as lovers or not, I meant what I said when I married you.”

  Together again as lovers? What the heck kind of dangerous talk was that? He’d said it had to be over between us, and he was right. No backpedaling or second thoughts.

  My mouth opened but didn’t have any words. I closed it for a moment and then asked, “You mean you’ll always be there when I need you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That street runs both ways,” I said, and cleared my throat. This was okay. I wanted us to be friends. Close friends. But not more.

  He leaned a little closer. I took a step back and my butt muscle full of antibiotics seized up. I pitched backward. He grabbed my arms and lowered me to the couch.

  “Dang, that hurts,” I said, lying half on my side and massaging my tush.

  Zach’s big palm came down over my hand. The heat of it seeped through the fabric of my patient gown. He gave a squeeze, and I would’ve jumped except for half my butt being in the middle of a seizure and his hand having a grip on it.

  “That’s a tough spot for a muscle spasm. Roll onto your belly.”

  “No way,” I said.

  He ignored my protests and pulled my hand free with his, then pressed his thumb down on a trigger spot.

  I yowled, but the clenched muscle released and relaxed.

  “Thanks,” I said grudgingly, and pushed his hand away. He cocked a brow at my suspicious expression.

  “How many times did you or a trainer help me work out a cramp after a game or a practice?” he asked. It was true. Zach had occasionally needed a rubdown from cramping muscles. “It ain’t no big thing.”

  When I didn’t immediately agree that his hand on my butt was no big deal, he added, “Girl, you really think I need cheap tricks to get my hands on your backside? What am I? Fourteen again?”

  “No,” I acknowledged, but I was anxious to change the subject. “So are you back to work at the station? Because I’d like to make a report.”

  “Oh, you would? You remembered some facts about tonight? I’m not sure it’s a good idea to let that cat out of the bag.”

  “No, not about the shootout. About my friend Vangie. She’s missing. She’s been abducted, almost for sure she has.”

  Zach’s amused expression disappeared, and he was all business. “Who’s Vangie?”

  I explained that Vangie was supposed to get married, but that no one had seen her since she’d gotten some evidence against her stepmother. I also told him about Edie disappearing and what she’d said. I figured if he and Edie were friends, he would want to know. And I didn’t know whether Vangie’s disappearance and the spell against the town ghosts were related.

  Zach raised his brows. “Edie said she saw ‘them’ the night she died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can’t be. The friends who were with her the night she died were all investigated and had alibis for the time of her death. Not to mention that they’d all be around a hundred and ten years old. It stands to reason that anyone she saw that night is dead by now.”

  “How do you know that the people Edie visited with on the night she died were investigated and had alibis?”

  “I got the case file.”

  My jaw dropped. “You—you got an almost-ninety-year-old case file from New York City?”

  He nodded.

  “How?”

  “You of all people should know I can turn on the Southern charm when I need to,” he said with a flash of a smile.

  Yes, I did know that. All too well.

  “Well, I’d like to read that file. She’s my aunt,” I said, annoyed that Zach seemed to know more about a piece of my family history than I did.

  “I’ll show it to you sometime.”

  “I want a copy.” I pulled the gown down to cover my legs to the knee. “I’d like it right away.”

  “I can’t see how her murder could have anything to do with what’s happening to the ghosts in town. That voodoo priestess witch Oatha probably has some provenance over the dead. I’d expect she’s the problem for the local ghosts.”

  “According to her family, Vangie’s stepmother went back to Dallas, suffering from chest pains and running scared, no doubt. Bryn made the Tammy Jo voodoo doll untouchable and attacked them with strong magic.”

  “Maybe she took the ghosts with her. Your aunt tells me there are ways for witches to trap ghosts. If Beads hasn’t shown up by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll drive to Dallas and have a word with the witch.”

  “You’d do that?” I asked. “For Edie?”

  Zach nodded. “I denied she existed for a long time and was a bad husband to you because of it. I’m not going to say Beads and I always get along. She’s a real pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s your kin—even if she is only a ghost—and I’ve got plenty to make up for where you�
��re both concerned. Going to Dallas ain’t no big thing and would be a good start on me making amends.”

  I smiled at him. “I feel like I’ve grown up a lot over the past few months. Seems like you have, too,” I said. “I’m a little bit proud of us.”

  He grinned. “Darlin’, you shot a man in the testicle tonight and I was happy about it. I think we’ve got further to go before anyone nominates us for the maturity hall of fame.”

  I sniffed. He had a point. “I shouldn’t have shot him when he was unarmed, but he made threats and reached for a firearm. Probably I shouldn’t be carrying a gun, but lord knows sometimes I need one. A sassy personality and a snappy comeback don’t go far against shotguns and voodoo magic. Still, I do have a bad temper sometimes. If I weren’t me and it were up to me, I don’t know that I’d give myself a gun permit.”

  This made his smile widen.

  I drew my brows together. “I’m gonna have to think on that.”

  “Well, don’t give yourself a headache. Some assholes need shooting. Beau Theroux obviously did.”

  “You’re only saying that because I’m a girl. If a man had shot an unarmed man in the nuts, you would’ve locked him up.”

  “That would be true most of the time,” Zach agreed. “But not necessarily always. If someone small like your friend Johnny was getting the hell beaten out of him and he shot someone to get away,” Zach said with a shrug, “I wouldn’t expect the prosecutor to throw the book at him under those circumstances.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said. The doorbell rang. “Speaking of Johnny.”

  “You expecting Johnny Nguyen?” Zach asked, walking to the front before I could shove myself off the couch.

  “Maybe Johnny will be with him. I’m expecting his boyfriend, Rollie.”

  Zach opened the door as I hobbled across the room. I tilted my head and sure enough Rollie stood in the doorway, all lean and lanky six and a half feet of him. He wore tight black pants with a fuchsia sequined shirt. He’d used dark eyeliner, thick mascara, and bright pink lip gloss. He wasn’t pretty—his face was way too angular and masculine for that—but he was sure striking.

  “Well, if it isn’t Bo Duke. How’s the butch life treating you?” Rollie asked.