by Tegan Maher
I looked over his shoulder at the mess in my backyard.
Justin came running like a madman towards us. "Can I go for a ride on the bike?"
I stopped him before he could get too excited. "Maybe when we get back, but we're gonna go first, okay?"
He huffed out a huge, nine-year-old sigh. "I guess."
"When we get back, big guy," Hunter said, ruffling his hair.
Hunter's phone dinged. He looked at it and drew his eyebrows together. "That's weird. I missed a call from the lab. I didn't even hear it ring."
He walked off to the side of the house and put a finger in his ear.
"So," Matt said. "If I'm gonna stay here, I need to clear a few things up, for my own sanity. First, you made the joke about hearing voices earlier."
"Oh," I said. "That's no joke. Normally, this doesn't come up in early conversation, but you're going to be living here, and we need to be able to be ourselves. Shelby and I, and Raeann, who you'll meet in the next day or two, are witches. The normal-other-than-magic kind, not the wart-on-the-nose, evil-cauldron kind."
He held up his hand. "Are you trying to tell me that I wasn't having a hallucination when I saw the barn sweep itself?"
I grimaced and peered at him with one eye shut. "Nope. You were perfectly lucid. Though technically, the barn didn't sweep itself. The broom swept the barn by itself. I feel really bad for freaking you out, even though I had no idea you were there."
He released a breath I didn't know he'd been holding. "No, that's good. I was like 80 percent sure it was real. And ... oh, what the hell, in for a penny—the donkey talks, right?"
I pinched my lips together and nodded. "Yup. Sometimes you can't get him to shut up. And if you're a scotch drinker, sneak it in, or he'll nag you to death for a nip of it."
He squinted his eyes and nodded. "Scotch. I see."
I grinned at the way he was trying to take all of it in stride. "It's not really as bizarre as you might think once you get used to it. He has a story. He's not just a talking donkey. He's actually a man—Maximillian Beauregard Lancaster III—cursed into a donkey's body by a scorned sixteenth-century Irish witch." I scratched my nose and waited for his reply.
"You mean by the sixteenth century they still hadn't learned not to piss off a redhead?"
I grinned. "I'm pretty sure it was a singular case, not a reflection on the rest of the male population."
"I reckon you're probably right. If it were, we'd have a lot more talking asses runnin' around."
Max popped open an eye and swiveled an ear at us.
"I heard that."
"I wasn't trying to be quiet," Matt said, then turned back to me. "We'll talk about all this more when I'm settled in. For now, I just needed to know that it wasn't me.
I quirked my mouth up. "No, it's not you."
Hunter sauntered back towards us looking troubled.
"What'd he have to say?"
"The DNA on that scrap of cloth came back. It was Chet's."
"That's awesome, then!" I knew that douche was guilty.
"Well, no. They also found bloody fingerprints that belong to Joe."
"Is one of them the drunk foreman?" Matt asked.
Hunter ran his tongue over his teeth. "Nope," he said, popping the P.
"Huh. That just makes everything clear as mud, then.”
Chapter Forty One
Hunter made the call to wait until morning to pick up Joe and Chet so that he could question them immediately, then hustled me onto the bike, no doubt to avoid talking about Joe.
Since moving here a few months before, he'd found some great back roads. Cody rode too, so there were times when the two of them would go out just to do the guy thing. I think they just followed whatever road they turned onto, and it worked.
We rode for an hour, then he pulled over at an overlook and we walked around a little to stretch our legs.
"I'm thinking about getting my own bike," I blurted.
He tripped over a rock, but caught himself just in time and I laughed at him. "What? Why is that so surprising?"
"I don't know," he said. "I guess I just never thought about it. What made you start thinking about it?"
I didn't even have to think about the answer. "I want to be in control. I want to be able to go as fast or as slow as I want, and I maybe even want to ride to work sometimes."
"Oh boy," he said after a minute. "You realize they're not toys, right?"
"Of course they're toys," I snapped at him, not appreciating the hint of condescension in his tone. "They're just toys that you have to respect and use with caution and common sense, just like a four-wheeler or even a horse, for that matter."
"Fair enough. How bout I start teaching you, and you can decide then. You should know how to ride anyway, in case anything ever happens to me."
Just thinking about it thrilled me. "When can we start?"
"Tomorrow," he laughed. Tonight, we have a dinner to go to, but don't worry. I'll have you on two wheels in no time, killer."
I was in such a good mood, I let that slide. The ride back home was awesome. The air was cooling down enough so the wind whipping over us was perfect, and as always, it was nice snuggling against his back. Of course, it was going to be nice to be riding [beside] him, too.
By the time we made it back to the house, we only had about fifteen minutes get ready. Fortunately, there wasn't much to do other than brush my hair and pull on a jacket since we'd be eating on the deck. Hunter took Justin for a quick ride, and by the time they got back, Matt and I were waiting for them on the porch.
His muscles were tense and he was sitting ramrod-straight in the rocking chair. "You don't have to do this, you know. I'll gladly bring you something home."
He shook his head. "No. It's time for me to get past this. Thanks for understanding though."
"I'll give you the same tip my speech instructor gave me. If you get overwhelmed, picture them all in their underwear."
He scoffed. "I thought you women frowned on us doing that?"
I flapped a hand at him. "Puhlease. Like that stops y'all anyway. That's what I get for trying to help."
Once we were all in, I was thankful that I'd gone with the king cab when I got the truck; fitting four people in the cab had been fine as a teenager but wouldn't have been quite as fine as an adult, especially when you have a boy hyped up on Twizzlers, sour gummies, and adrenaline riding with you.
By the time we made it to Bobbie Sue's, I'm pretty sure Matt was re-evaluating his decisions of the last twelve hours, and of the last two in particular.
The parking lot was empty except for a couple of cars and I was glad that we'd planned it for a bit later, when there wouldn't be a ton of people there. Plus, since Sarah was off, I knew the service was going to be slow. I wanted to give us the best odds possible of actually eating without having to do it myself.
Emily, Scott, Louise, and Jared were already there, so we joined them and made the introductions. Apparently, Darren had something to do but would be there in time to eat.
"Can I go see Bobbie Sue and Earl in the kitchen again?" Justin asked, practically vibrating in his chair.
"Absolutely," I said. "Come on."
He managed to mind his manners enough not to run to the batwings, but barely. As soon as we did, Bobbie Sue's face lit up like the Fourth of July. "Hey Earl, looks like your assistant chef just showed up!"
Earl looked up from the meat that he was slicing and his burly face split into a grin. "Welcome back, young’un! You here to help me load the pit or pull the pork?"
Justin looked at me and put his hand over his mouth so only I could hear. "What's pullin' the pork mean?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is he funnin' me? Is that like pullin’ your leg?"
Laughing, I replied, "No. Pulling pork just means shredding it with a fork or your fingers. See that big pile over there?" I pointed to Earl's workstation. "All those slivers of pork used to be one big chunk. Or, from the looks of it, two or three big chunks."
"O
hhh." He looked from the pit to the pork and back again. "Both!" he announced.
"Good man," Earl grinned, motioning him back.
"Good bye, Madam," he said in a really bad British accent. "Go enjoy yourself, and we shall make your meal."
I rolled my eyes and looked from Earl to Bobbie Sue. "Y'all sure you got him?"
Bobbie waved her chef knife at me, but was smiling. "Scat. Go on, now. Everything's fine."
I shrugged and headed back to the table. Not surprisingly, our drinks still weren't there. "Has she even been here to take our drink order?"
Hunter shook his head and I heaved a sigh. "And this, Louise, is the standard you have to beat."
She laughed. "I'm pretty sure I'm already beating it just by sitting here interacting with everybody at the table."
"True story," I said and went to get our drinks.
The waitress station was a wreck. The tea was almost empty, there was something sticky all over the counters, and there were no clean cups. And she was nowhere to be seen. I went and got a rack full of cups and stacked them on the counter, then filled our cups.
As I pushed through the door to the patio, I caught sight of her at the end of the building, smoking a cigarette and talking on her phone. I flicked my finger and her phone flew out of her hand.
When she bent down to pick it up, I almost gave her backside a push so she'd step forward onto the screen, but didn't since she was gonna be unemployed by the end of the night. See? I'm considerate.
She pushed away from the wall and took our orders, then disappeared back into the building, no doubt to find a better place to hide.
They'd been talking construction while I was gone, and I was glad to see that Matt seemed to be relaxed and having a good time telling them about the design flaws in my pool. It turned out that Wheeler Construction had several projects at some stage in the funnel besides my pool, the veterans memorial, and Bobbie Sue’s stage, so the sooner Emily could get things back up and running, then better.
"I'm not gonna beat around the bush, Matt. I need your experience and I'd love to have you on the team," Emily said.
He paused, struggling with an internal debate. "I'll help as I can. Let's get you back up and running, then decide where we're at, okay?"
"Deal," she and Jared echoed.
Well, there was that problem solved. Two problems, actually. Now if we could get Justin situated and solve Max's murder, we'd be in Jim Dandy shape.
Speaking of Justin, I figured I'd better go make sure things were hunky-dory with him. He was an awesome kid, but he could be a handful, and if they were busy, I didn't want him to be underfoot.
I stood back while she backed through the door with our trays, then pushed in, expecting to find him covered in soot, barbecue sauce, or both. Instead, I found Earl pulling pork and Bobbie Sue working in the dish pit.
She caught my movement and looked up.
"Where's Justin?" I asked.
Her eyes got a little wide. "What do you mean, where's Justin? He came back to the table ten minutes ago. He went to the bathroom, then came back in and said he needed to tell you something. Something about a wallet guy."
My blood ran cold. "You're sure that's what he said? The wallet guy?"
"Yeah," she said, coming from the pit and drying her hands. "What was he talking about? Who's the wallet guy?"
"The wallet guy," I told her with a heart full of dread, "is the man who murdered Max."
Chapter Forty
Earl stopped messing with the pork and wiped his hands, coming out of his area like a pissed-off grizzly bear. I'd never seen him anything other than gruff or laughing, and let me tell you, the man was terrifying.
His biceps were huge, with a Marines insignia tattoo on one, and Lady Liberty draped in a ribbon emblazoned with Semper Fidelis on the other. It wasn't his size or tattoos that made him scary though, it was his expression—it promised extended, intense pain to anybody that hurt that kid.
Earl charged toward the front door and Bobbie Sue to the back door. I checked the bathrooms just to make sure we actually had a reason to panic.
By the time I made it outside, hunter was already on his phone putting out an APB, so I called Coralee and did the same. Her phone tree was much bigger than Keyhole County's; the woman had eyes everywhere.
I spotted the waitress staring at us and wondering what was going on. I remembered seeing her standing at the end of the building. She may have seen something. What the hell was her name?
"Krista!" I called.
She rolled her eyes as I strode in her direction. "It's Krystal."
"Okay, sorry. Whatever. Did you see the little boy that came in with us leave with anybody?"
"I didn't see a little boy with you. Do you mean the redheaded one that was being a pest in the kitchen?"
I'd choke her later.
"Yes, that one."
"Some guy dragged him across the parking lot and drove off with him."
"You just let a guy drag a kid out of here without saying anything?"
"What? I thought he was just in trouble."
I bit back the urge to pummel her. "What kind of car?"
"Oh, that's easy," she said. “It's the same kind my boyfriend drives: a silver Impala.”
I felt like I was going to pass out. The one car we hadn't been able to identify that had been to Max's the morning he was murdered.
I rushed back to the table. "Hunter, it was a guy in a silver Impala." The blood drained from his face as soon as he made the connection.
Emily tilted her head sideways. "What about a silver Impala? That's what Darren drives." Max popped in right at the tail end of that.
"What about the car Darren drives?"
"Max, you have to focus, here. Your neighbor saw a silver Impala come and go from your shop the morning you were killed. It was the only care we weren't able to track down."
He was starting to flicker, and Addy popped in. "Don't you dare chicken out on that boy, you old geezer. Focus!"
At that, Addy smacked her hands together and something similar to lightning sounded. I'd definitely be asking her how she did that later, once Justin was home and safe.
Max's form solidified a bit and he stopped flickering. He heaved a huge sigh and looked like a beaten man as he turned to Emily. "It was Darren, Em. Darren's the one that kilt me."
"No." Emily said, pressing her fingers to her mouth. "No, no, no, no. That can't be."
"Honey, it is," he said softly, then turned to us.
"The only place I can figure he'll go is to his folks' place," he told me. "Nobody's lived there since they died, but we've kept it up." He gave us directions, then turned to Emily.
"I'm going to try to pop into the car with him. I'm gettin' pretty good with Numbnuts and Noelle over there so wish me luck."
Emily just stared at me. "We loved him and raised him like our own." Horror rolled over her face. "I told him Justin could identify the murderer. I was so excited that somebody knew!"
"Don't, Emily. This isn't your fault. Let's just find them, okay?" I was already to my truck, jerking the door open, when Hunter, Earl, Matt, and Scott jumped in.
"I know where the house is," Scott said as I pulled to the entrance of the lot. "Take a right and go straight until you hit Oracle, then take a left."
I followed his directions and houses became further and further apart. Finally, he motioned to an overgrown driveway that I'd likely have missed if he hadn't pointed it out. The tall grass was bent; somebody'd been there recently.
"I don't know what you want to do from here. The house isn't very far up the drive. Three hundred yards or so. If you pull in, he'll see you." Since there was nothing but woods before the driveway, I backed up and pulled off the road into the weeds.
We got out and rushed to the mouth of the driveway, slowing down before we left the coverage of the trees that concealed us.
Matt held his hand out in a fist. Anybody who's ever backed a truck onto a hitch or had to load and unload
five hundred pounds of feed from a dock knows what that means. We all stopped.
He crept up to the driveway and poked his head around just enough to maybe see the house. He did three more of those quick glances, then came back to us.
"From this angle, there's no way to get to the house without being out in the open."
"What about from the south side? Scott?"
Okay, now we were talking directions. I was lost and demanded clarification. From then on out, I got fronts, backs, lefts, and rights.
Scott said, "We need to distract him. He knows me and looks up to me, or at least he did. I'll go straight up the front yard."
Matt nodded, "The three of us—" I cleared my throat and four heads turned to me.
"I only need the answer to one question. Is it him in there? Darren, I mean."
Matt gave a curt nod. "The Impala's parked out front."
"Thank you very much, gentlemen." As I rounded the grouping of trees and came into the open, Justin screamed from inside the house.
Fury bubbled in my chest and red tinged my vision. I opened my mind and called to my magic. The trees and tall grass stirred in response and I felt his mind. I expected it to feel slimy, or evil. But it didn't. It felt weak and selfish and stupid.
I didn't knock at the door to his consciousness like I do with Shelby's or Rae's. I blew it clear off his hinges, screaming in his head, calling him every name I could think of. "Come out of there, you slimy little—"
"I'll kill him if you come any closer!" I didn't know if he said it out loud or in his head, but I pushed harder at his mind, spreading into the cracks and crevices. I started seeing flashes of thought; that had never happened before. I saw his hand, and there was a knife in it. Justin was tied to a chair and he was walking toward him.
I could sense the men moving behind me, telling me to be careful. The only thing I needed to be careful about was to stay on my feet, to not fall. I poured all of my focus into being him, into controlling that knife, and I felt it when my will overpowered his. I stopped and held up my fist in the same signal to stop they'd used just a few minutes before.