Hot on the Trail Mix

by P. D. Workman

  “We just went to see the cave. We didn’t know that anyone saw us and would follow us in.”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t do anything to try to shut you up.”

  Erin didn’t say anything.

  “He didn’t do anything, did he?”

  “He had a shotgun. He was threatening us. He fired it, but we’re okay.”

  “Tell me Vic didn’t shoot him.”

  “Vic didn’t shoot him.”

  Beside her, Vic snorted. “He got the drop on us, Officer Piper,” she said loudly so that he would be able to hear her. “Or I might have!”

  “So… what? He just let you go?”

  “Nilla attacked him. Distracted him and slowed him down enough that we could get away.”

  “Nilla? So that little ball of fur is worth something?”

  “You’re not allowed to badmouth him anymore. Not after that.”

  “I guess not. I’m going to have to revise my opinion of him.”

  “Me too. He was a good dog.” Erin looked over the seat at Nilla, who wagged his tail excitedly, tongue lolling out in a wide doggie smile of satisfaction. Erin chuckled. “Yes. Good dog!”

  “So…” Terry drew her attention back. “How bad is this? Did he follow you? You figure he’ll run, and Jenny with her family?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I wanted to call you and let you know before we got home. You might want to… rally the troops.”

  “Yep. Going to have to. I’m still doubtful about whether Jenny Ryder would have been able to do that. We’ll need to ask the medical examiner’s opinion on height and whether a woman— a heavily pregnant one especially—would have the strength to do it.”

  “Go ahead. But I think that’s what happened. And that’s what Wiseman said. Baby Ike was born after that. She went into labor that day, probably because of the exertion, or her mental state, whatever. I think he was probably a bit premature; he’s very small and jaundiced.”

  “It’s possible. I can also see, with one child dying and another being born the same day, her being superstitious about naming him the same thing. Sort of a reincarnation thing.”

  “They’re Christian. Christians don’t believe in reincarnation, do they?”

  “Not officially, no. But that doesn’t stop some of them from believing in it, or believing in old superstitions about death and rebirth. I’ve known a lot of people who have been able to hold competing beliefs. They don’t really see the conflict, even if you point it out to them.”

  “Huh. Well, it kind of makes sense. One child replaces the other. Maybe it brings her a little bit of comfort.”

  “I’d better go. You guys are on your way straight back here, right? And no one is following you?”

  Erin looked behind them, watching for any vehicle that might be in pursuit. She’d been forced off the road once before, and she didn’t want to think about it happening again.

  Vic shook her head. “I haven’t seen anyone following,” she said. “I’ve been watching.”

  Erin reported this back to Terry.

  “Good. I’m going to hang up. You guys stay safe. If you think there is a problem, call me back.”

  “If Jenny did do it… if she killed Rip in a fit of passion because her son had just died… will she be able to get out of it and not have to serve prison time?”

  Terry’s voice was gentle as he answered her. “I’m not a lawyer, Erin, but no, I really don’t think so. Even with manslaughter, she’s still going to have to serve some time. Maybe she has a family member who can help look after the kids while she’s in prison.”

  Erin swallowed, a lump in her throat. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry, Erin.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 42

  It was anticlimactic going back to the house. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Terry was already gone. The animals were there. There were no playing children or men with shotguns. Vic promised to stay with Erin. If Willie got back, he could join them, but Erin didn’t have to be alone.

  She tried practicing her tai chi, hoping that would help her to unwind and relax. But the sadness pressed down on her. All of those children having to go live with someone else. Maybe being split up. Maybe having to go into foster care if there weren’t any relatives around to take care of them. She felt the weight of it on her own shoulders. She had been the one to pursue it, to put the puzzle pieces together and sort out that it had been Jenny.

  If she had known when she started where the clues were going to lead, she wouldn’t have pursued it. She would rather they just left Jenny alone and let her go on taking care of her children. What justice would be served by putting her in prison? It wouldn’t change the fact that Rip was dead and her children fatherless. It wouldn’t bring big Ike back. It would leave the children scattered in various homes, with no mommy and daddy and no continuity. They would all be better off if Jenny could just continue taking care of them.

  “You were worried about them before,” Vic pointed out, reading Erin’s face as she tried to work through her forms and resolve her feelings. “You were afraid of the children not getting enough to eat, getting enough supervision, getting the education they need out there in the woods. So now… maybe they’ll go somewhere that they can have those things.”

  “But if they had to choose between those things and their mama, they would choose to stay with their mama.”

  “Well… probably. You can’t know that for sure, but kids don’t always know what’s best for them. Just because they want to be with Jenny, that doesn’t mean it’s the thing that’s best for them.”

  Erin breathed out in time with her movements. “Yes, it is.”

  Vic looked startled. “It is what?”

  “It is the best thing for them. To stay with Jenny. I don’t have any doubt.”

  Vic watched her movements, frowning. “Really? You really think that’s the best?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen how being taken away from their parents hurts kids. Especially when it’s for something like not being able to provide for them. Not having enough food in the house, or a job, or not having a place to live at all.”

  “They don’t take kids away just because their parents are poor.”

  Erin stopped and looked at Vic, raising her brows.

  “Well, they don’t, do they?” Vic insisted.

  Erin continued her tai chi movements. “All the time.”

  Erin couldn’t sleep. She lay there awake in the bed, lonely and craving Terry’s body next to hers and his comforting arms around her, but knew that he probably wouldn’t be home before she got back up for work.

  She had told Vic and Willie to go home. She didn’t need them to stay up with her. She was safe enough with the burglar alarm and her trusty attack cat. If Wiseman had followed them back, he would have done something right away, while Terry was still away, so Erin wasn’t worried about it.

  She lay there by herself, worrying, thinking about all of those children being ripped away from Jenny while she was taken off in a police car in handcuffs. It was horrible to think about. All that much worse because it was Erin’s fault.

  She heard the door open. Terry didn’t call out to her, assuming that she would be asleep, but she heard the familiar, comforting sounds of him locking the door and rearming the burglar alarm and of K9 panting and his claws clicking on the kitchen floor. She rolled over on the bed, waiting for Terry to come in, but he didn’t check in on her right away, so she eventually put her feet on the floor and went out to him.

  “Oh!” Terry startled when he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. He touched his chest lightly, taking a deep breath. “You’re up. I didn’t think you would still be awake.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Not thinking about those children. A newborn, Terry. He won’t even remember her.”

  “Erin.”

  She waited for the platitudes. For him to reassure her that it would all work out for the best, and that Jenny had to face justice for what she had done. He
didn’t say anything and, eventually, she looked at his face. “What?”

  “She was gone.”

  Erin swallowed and waited for more information. Jenny was gone? Did that mean she had escaped or that she had killed herself—and maybe taken all of her children with her? She looked up into Terry’s face. He put his hands on her shoulders, warm and comforting.

  “She and Wiseman and the rest picked up and left. We’ve got APB’s out on them, but I’m not confident that we’ll be able to find them again. They got a head start on us, and we don’t know by how much or what direction they went in. They could be out of the state already, or they could be deeper into the wilderness. If they’ve driven out of state, they’ll probably have dumped their vehicles or stolen new plates. I think it’s pretty certain that we won’t be able to find them again. Tracking people who are largely invisible… it’s dang near impossible.”

  Erin hugged herself to him, putting her cheek to his chest. “I know I shouldn’t be happy about that. I should want you to catch her. But I don’t. I want her to be able to raise her children.”

  “It will be a hard life. Kids who spend their whole lives on the run don’t have it easy. But it isn’t like they had it easy up until this point anyway. Or that it would have been easy for them if she had still been there when we got there.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t have to take them away from her.”

  “To tell the truth, I am too. I don’t think any of us were too disappointed.”

  “Even Stayner?”

  Terry chuckled. “Even Stayner. He’s not such a bad guy, Erin. Just a little rough around the edges.”

  Erin snorted. “A little.”

  Chapter 43

  Even with Terry in bed with her and knowing that Jenny had managed to escape with her children, Erin still couldn’t sleep. She knew that Terry wasn’t asleep either. He was still, but she could tell by his breathing pattern and the tension in his body that he was lying awake. She turned around to face him and snuggled up.

  “You should take one of your sleeping pills,” she told him.

  “Nah. I’m fine. If I don’t get much tonight, I’ll sleep better tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t want you getting sleep-deprived…”

  He knew that the lecture was coming. “I won’t. I’ll take care of myself. I’m just saying that one night won’t be the end of the world. Same as for you.”

  “If I took a pill, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed when it was time. Vic can, but they just knock me for a loop.”

  They both just breathed for a while, cuddled up together, knowing that they weren’t going to be able to get to sleep. They had too much on their minds.

  “Erin.”

  “Mmm-hm?”

  “When you talked about how many women were having babies the last few weeks…”

  “Yes?”

  “You mentioned us. That we weren’t.”

  Erin rubbed her eyes. Her heart started to race. “What about it?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Have a baby?”

  “Yes,” his voice was patient and amused. “Do you want to have a baby? Us together.”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer him. If she said no, he would be hurt and think there was something wrong with them as a couple. If she said yes, then she’d have to deal with the extra pressure, and she wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing or the right time.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I thought… maybe someday. But I don’t know for sure I want to have a baby. And I’m pretty sure that… now isn’t the right time.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Okay.”

  “Is it? That doesn’t upset you?”

  “No. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

  “And we are?”

  “I’m okay with waiting to see. But when you mentioned it… I didn’t want you pining away after a baby or deciding you wanted one but afraid to let me know.”

  “No, not yet.” Erin pressed her face against him. “Sometime, maybe… but not yet.”

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  Preview of What the Cat Knew

  Chapter 1

  Reg Rawlins climbed out of the car and stretched, her muscles cramped after being in the car all day. According to the dashboard readout, it was a few degrees warmer than it had been in Tennessee. Added to that, it was humid and the air felt muggy. She could smell the ocean. She’d heard that all points in Florida were within sixty miles of the ocean as the crow flies. She was looking forward to spending some time swimming and looking for seashells. She’d always wanted to live near a real beach. A warm, sandy beach.

  “Witch!” accused a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign. He had long, scraggly hair and a beard, streaked with gray, and he was missing several teeth. His clothes were ragged, and even though he was a few feet away, Reg could smell his unwashed body.

  She gave him a scowl, but didn’t turn away. His reaction interested her. She was dressed for the part she intended to play—headscarf, heavy jewelry and hoop earrings, a long, flowing peasant dress—so it was not unexpected that he would notice her and comment on her getup. But he had gone with witch rather than a fortune-teller or medium, which she thought was an odd choice. She wasn’t wearing a pointed hat or black robe.

  “What makes you think I’m a witch?” she demanded.

  “All redheads are witches!” he informed her.

  “Ah.” Reg’s red hair was all done in cornrow braids, which hung free around her face rather than being wound up under her headscarf. She liked the effect. And she liked the way the braids felt when she turned her head and they all swished back and forth. She ignored the homeless man and looked up and down the boardwalk.

  She liked the atmosphere of Florida. Laid back and relaxed, not like in Tennessee where she had visited Erin. There had certainly been some uptight ladies there. She didn’t regret leaving, though she was sad things hadn’t worked out with Erin. Erin had been a lot more fun when they were kids. She’d grown up too much and become a stuffy old woman instead of the lost child she’d been when they had lived with the Harrises and then again when they had both aged out of foster care and had run a few cons together. Now she was grown up and mature and responsible, no longer interested in Reg’s ideas.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, Erin,” Reg murmured, looking around at the blue sky and the green vegetation, the tang of salt hanging in the air. Swimming in Florida was going to be nothing like a dip in the ocean in Maine. Miles of sandy beaches, warm water, and not a care in the world.

  She gathered up her braids with both hands and pulled them back behind her shoulders, letting them fall again.

  “There somewhere good to eat around here?” she asked the bum.

  People looked at her oddly as they passed, and Reg didn’t know if it was because of her outfit or the fact that she was talking to a non-person.

  “Only if you like seafood!” the man cackled.

  Luckily, Reg did.

  “You should go to The Crystal Bowl,” he told her. “That’s where the witches gather.”

  Reg pursed her lips, considering him. “The Crystal Ball?”

  “The Crystal Bowl. Get it?”

  “Where is The Crystal Bowl?”

  He gestured down the boardwalk. “Yonder about two blocks. Big sign. Can’t miss it.”

  Reg had been told that Flori
da, and Black Sands in particular, was the place for psychics and mediums but she hadn’t expected there to actually be enough of a community to warrant a restaurant of their own. She was glad she’d picked Florida over Massachusetts; she’d had enough of New England to last her a lifetime.

  The Crystal Bowl had satisfyingly dramatic decor and furnishings. Blacks, reds, and golds combined into a rich tapestry of mysticism, lit by flickering candles which were actually tiny electric lights. East met West in a sort of a cross between an opium den and a carnival fortune-teller set. They worked together in harmony rather than clashing.

  The patrons of the restaurant, however, were disappointingly normal. Shorts with t-shirts or light blouses, sunglasses propped on foreheads, everybody looking at their phones or calling across the room to greet each other. No sense of mystical decorum.

  The sign said ‘please wait to be seated,’ but Reg walked across to the bar counter and selected a stool.

  The bartender was spare, his skin too pale for a Floridian. He obviously spent too much time in the restaurant out of the sun. Either that or he was a vampire.

  “Afternoon,” he greeted, adjusting the spacing between the various bottles on the counter and turning their labels out.

  “Hi.”

  “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

  “No, just flew in on my broomstick.”

  He eyed her. “Wrong costume.”

  Reg grinned. “Good. The old bum down the street said that I was a witch, and I was afraid I’d gotten it wrong.”

  “It’s the red hair.”

  “So I hear. Mediums can’t have red hair?”

  “Mediums can have whatever they want. So what will it be?” He gestured to the neat rows of bottles behind the bar and the chalkboard on the wall behind them.