How could any of this have anything to do with Merl Peterson though? He was killed at the college. Wait, I take that back. All I knew for certain was that he was found dead at the college. Maybe he’d had a heart attack.
No, the sheriff wouldn’t have raced off for an accidental death.
The way Avery had looked at me last night, I knew he thought I was bad luck. I wish I knew how Merl died. I also wished I knew who had been buried in my wall. Old Man Mills had died of old age. Probably. No mystery in his death. There was the family that went missing in the eighties. Surely this wasn’t one of them. Oh my Goddess. What if there really were bodies all over the place?
I poured a cup of coffee and sat down on the bench. Smooshie crawled under my legs. “Poor baby.” I would have to remember to get her a Thunder Buddy vest. Parker and Ryan both swore by these kinds of dog jackets. They said it helped keep a dog from getting to anxious when they were scared or under stress. This was the first hard storm of the season, so I didn’t realize she was so afraid. And the trailer amplified the noise.
Four hard bangs on the trailer door made my heart pound as I jerked upright in my seat. The storm had masked any car or truck noises. I went to the door and jumped again when three more bangs happened.
“Who is it?” I shouted.
“It’s Parker!” he shouted back. “Let me in.”
I undid the slide bolt, unlocked the door knob and opened the door. Standing in the rain, wearing a slicker and rubber boots, Parker looked like a drowning dog.
I moved aside. “Come in.”
He dripped a huge puddle of water on my floor just inside the door. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“What?”
“Theresa told me someone was murdered out here. That you found the body. Why didn’t you call me? You shouldn’t be alone with another killer on the loose.”
He looked so upset. I couldn’t be mad at him for treating me like a victim, which I wasn’t, because he had rescued me from Tom Jones. If Parker hadn’t found me and hadn’t stopped Tom, I would have bled to death. I had the bullet scar in my shoulder to remind me of my close call.
“I found a corpse, Parker, but it has been dead for a long time. There isn’t any killer on the loose. At least not here.”
“I thought…I heard Merl Peterson was murdered. It wasn’t him?” He leaned back against the door, his eyes closed with relief. “I mean, an old dead body is bad, but…”
“I get it.” And I did. Parker had been scared for me. “Merl Peterson was found at Two Hills.”
“So he did die?” He wiped the rain off his face with a dishtowel I handed him. “I’ll check in with my dad soon. He and Merl have been close friends for as long as I’ve been alive. Longer.”
“Take off your rain coat,” I said sympathetically. “I’ll pour you a cup of coffee, and you can warm up while I tell you what I know.”
I spent the next ten minutes relaying all the events from the night before. Parker chuckled when I told him about Smooshie trying to bury the foot in the yard. He gave her head a ruffling pet. I told him about Morris getting the call about Merl. I didn’t tell Parker that I was over forty feet from him when he told the sheriff.
Once again I was reminded of why it would never work between us. The storm softened to a light patter again. “That’s kind of nice,” Parker said, referring to sound the rain created.
“It really is,” I agreed. “Have you met the new coroner? Regina Crawford.”
“Really? Doctor Crawford is the new coroner?”
So he did know her. “She seems competent. I think I like her.”
“She works out of the same practice as my doctor. She just moved to Moonrise a couple of years ago. About the same time I came back home after my discharge.”
“Nadine says she’s going to the thing on Saturday,” I said, kicking myself for the abrupt change of topic.
“Good,” Parker said. “It’ll be nice to see a friendly face.”
“Naomi doesn’t have a friendly face?” I hated that I was fishing.
Parker gave me a weary look. “Her face is fine.”
I blinked. “Is it?”
He didn’t elaborate.
“What time is it?” I asked.
He looked at his watch. “Eight-forty.”
“Oh no. I was supposed to be to work forty minutes ago. I’m sorry, Parker. Go back home. I’m fine, as you can see. I’ll get dressed and meet you there.”
“You should take the day off. Theresa called.”
“I know, to tell you about the body.”
“No, she called to see how you were doing. When I told her you hadn’t made it to work yet, she told me about the body. She was really worried about you.”
As opposed to just wanting to gossip, he implied. “That’s nice. I’ll thank her tomorrow when she comes in.”
“You can thank her on Friday. She came in to cover for me when I told her you hadn’t arrived to work yet, so I gave her tomorrow off in exchange.” He gave me a tight smile that said he’d been sick with worry.
“I’m all right, Parker. Honestly. I may have the name of a delicate flower, but I’m certainly not.”
“I know that,” he said. “Better than most. You’re a strong woman, Lily Mason.”
His use of both my first and last name made my belly flutter. Stop that, I scolded my mid-section. “Then you know I’m fine. I’ve been through lots worse than Moonrise has put me through, and I’ll weather this as well.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about where you’re from, Lily?”
My stomach clenched. “I talk about it.” Lie. It was my fault the conversation had taken this turn, and I wished I could take back the implication about my past tragedies.
“Other than a few vague mentions of the friend who helped you with the down payment on this place, you never talk about it. Did you have a boyfriend there?”
“No.” And I hadn’t. I wasn’t considered good stock for the Shifters, and the warlocks tended to like their partners with a lot more power or money. Which meant on this question, I was absolutely truthful with Parker. I just hoped he didn’t ask questions I couldn’t answer.
“Did someone you love die?”
“Yes.”
“That explains it.” He shook his head.
“Explains what?”
“You like me, don’t you.”
Oh Goddess, not this talk. Anything but this talk. “Yes.” I gulped. “You’re a good friend.”
He shook his head. “When you lose someone, it can be hard to start over. It can feel like a betrayal. But the person you loved, who loved you, I don’t believe he’d want you to be alone. To be lonely.”
“I…” I put my hand on his. “I left home because my brother died. He was my responsibility, and I was a poor substitute for a real parent. He needed a mom and a dad but he got me instead.” I fought the tears as I gave words to my deepest regret. “I came here because I have no one left for me back home. Buzz is my only family.” I met Parker’s gaze. “I’m heartbroken, but not for the reasons you think.”
“So, you’re not avoiding relationships, you’re just avoiding a relationship with me.”
“I’m not in a place to have a relationship with anyone.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “Who did you lose?”
“How did you…? Her name was…” He paused, the word stuck in his throat. “Angela. Her name was Angela. God, I haven’t said that name out loud in a long time. She was a radio operator for a unit my team was tasked with babysitting.”
“And you loved her?” I felt a mild pang of jealousy. It made me feel like the worst kind of woman.
“I think so.” He shrugged. “We knew each other for only a few months.”
Sometimes that’s all it took. “How did she die?”
He pulled the collar of his T-shirt away from his neck. “The firefight in Yemen happened. We were escorting trucks from her unit to an evacuation point. The truck she was in hit a land mine.” He shook his
head. “Angela didn’t survive the blast.”
When he’d told me the story before, he’d always said he “lost some buddies,” as if he’d been distancing himself from the memories. He never used their names. Now I knew why. He blamed himself for Angela’s death, the same way I blamed myself for Danny’s.
“It’s hard thinking about all the things you should have done different. Beating yourself up for this wrong choice or that bad decision.”
His gaze met mine, and the whites of his eyes had reddened with unshed tears. “Copy that.”
I was wide awake now, unfortunately for Smooshie, who’d already crawled out from under the table, went down the hall, and I heard the box spring make a noise as she put herself back to bed.
“I have some eggs in the fridge. Are you hungry?” I hadn’t cooked yet in the small kitchen, so scrambled eggs would be a good test drive.
“Sure,” Parker said. “Why not?”
“I have to warn you, Buzz got all the chef talent in our family. I know enough to keep myself from starving to death, but that’s about it.”
Parker laughed, and it was nice to hear after the weight of his confession. He stood up. “Why don’t you let me cook? After all, I’m the one who barged into your place.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm,” I said. “Pans are above the microwave.”
He opened the fridge. “Wow, by ‘some eggs,’ you meant several dozen.”
“I like eggs.” They were quick and easy to make on top of being excellent protein sources for private pig-outs.
“And cheese,” Parker added, pulling out a five-pound bag of shredded cheddar. “And dang, woman, you must spend half your paycheck at the butchers.”
I forgot I’d stocked up on beef, pork, and chicken. I was going to divide it out when I had a chance and freeze some of it. “Cook,” I said. “Don’t judge.”
He smiled. “Words to live by.”
As Parker cooked, I remembered the argument in the diner. It probably had nothing to do with Merl’s death, but the guy said Peterson, and I couldn’t shake the feeling they’d been talking about Merl. “Do you know a guy who works at the courthouse named Gary, or something like that?”
“What does he look like?”
“Middle aged, thin, glasses. I didn’t get a long look at him.” I hadn’t wanted to be obvious I was listening. “Maybe his name was Greg. I think he works in the department where properties are auctioned.”
“He doesn’t sound familiar.” Parker had found some bowls in a lower cabinet below the drain board. “Why?”
“It’s probably nothing,” I said. I didn’t have any real idea the conversation between Jeff and the man had anything to do with Merl, so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “I hope Merl got all the paperwork filed on this property for me. If not I may have to jump through some hoops. Thought I could start with the guy in charge of that stuff.”
“Contrary to popular belief, not everybody in a small town knows everybody else.” He smiled when he said it. He cracked a dozen eggs into the bowl.
I smiled.
“I know you have a good appetite,” he said. “My dad swears you have a tapeworm.”
“Gross. I don’t have worms.” I drank some of my coffee. It had cooled a little more than I found pleasant, so I topped it with some fresh. “I’m part road runner,” I said. “Meep meep.”
“That I believe.” The stove’s heating coil turned cherry red, and he set a frying pan down to heat. “Oil?”
“Counter.” I pointed to where I had a canister of sugar, a canister of flour, and a quart of oil. What had started out as a potential disaster was turning into a nice moment between friends. I’d have to hold this memory, the one of Parker making me eggs, to get me through Saturday and Sunday. I wanted him to find someone to be with, I just didn’t want to think about it, or imagine, or even better, I didn’t want to know about it at all.
Was that too much to ask?
My phone rang. Parker leaned over to look at the display. “Sheriff’s office,” he said.
“Ugh. I do not want to face Sheriff Avery this early in the day.”
“It might be important. Maybe they identified the body.”
“Fine.” I grabbed the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”
“This is Deputy Larimore from the county sheriff’s department working in conjunction with the prosecutor’s office. Am I speaking with a Ms. Lilian Mason?”
“Lily,” I corrected. “Like the flower.” They were my mother’s favorite. “But yes, this is Lily Mason. Can I help you, Deputy? Is this about the body found in my house?”
“No, ma’am. There was a body in your house? Did you report this?”
“Yes. Last night.” Impatience colored my tone. “If you aren’t calling about the body, then why are you calling me, Deputy Larimore?”
“I have been asked by the district attorney to inform you that a date has been set for Thomas Franklin Jones’ trial, and a subpoena has been issued for your court appearance as a prime witness.”
“Oh.” Tom’s attorney had managed to get two postponements already and I’d begun to think a trial might never happen. I was the main witness for the prosecution, since Bridgette had confessed her crime to me then shot me. Her husband Tom chased after me to finish what his wife had started. If it hadn’t been for Parker, Tom probably would have killed me. “When?”
“May sixth, Ms. Mason.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Are you supposed to notify Parker Knowles?”
“I can’t give out that information, ma’am.”
“He’s here with me now. I can hand the phone to him if you want, or I can just tell him.”
“I’d appreciate you telling him,” Deputy Larimore said. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“What is it?” Parker asked as he stirred the eggs in the pan.
“Tom Jones.” I suddenly had the intense urge to call for Smooshie so I could wrap myself around her for comfort. My own, of course. She was perfectly content to stay in bed. “They set his trial for May. Subpoenas are coming soon.”
“That douchebag. He couldn’t just go quietly away. I can’t believe he recanted his testimony.”
“He had enough money to afford an attorney who convinced him to fight.” I sighed. I agreed with Parker. I wished every day Tom would vanish off the face of the earth.
“I don’t know how he thinks he’s going to go free. His wife killed Katherine. He covered it up. Then he killed Katherine’s brother Ed, and he and his psycho wife tried to kill you.”
I noticed Parker didn’t say her name. He and Bridgette had been an item in high school. Prom King and Queen. They’d ruled the school, according to Nadine. And now, she was just Tom Jones’ psycho wife. I touched my shoulder where Tom’s bullet had pierced me.
“Does it still bother you?” Parker asked.
I put my hand to my side. “Not much.” As a Shifter, I healed a little faster than humans, but without a healer witch’s magic, the bullet’s path had scarred enough to leave me with some stiffness. It had taken a lot of stretching and shoulder exercises to get most of the mobility back.
“This is such utter crap.”
“I’m not looking forward to testifying.” I shuddered at the thought of reliving the evening in front of a bunch of strangers. I’d have to work at controlling my emotions. It would be dangerous to let my claws come out mid-testimony.
Parker put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me and opened three drawers until he found the utensils and handed me a fork. His expression was compassionate and sympathetic. “He’s a coward.”
“Most murderers are.” I took a heaping bite of the eggs. They were good. Not too heavy with garlic, and just the right amount of salt and pepper. Smooshie jumped out of the bed, shaking the whole trailer with her acrobats. She scrambled into the kitchen, sat down, and looked up at Parker with those doughy, soulful eyes. She reminded me of a homeless waif straight out of a Dickens novel.
Parker laug
hed. He cracked an egg into the pan, mixed it up until it was just cooked, then tossed it in with Smooshie’s dry dog food that I’d set up on the floor near the couch the night before. As she happily rooted around in her food, wagging her tail dangerously and making piggy noises, I knew she was falling in love Parker.
I looked up at him. He had his arms crossed over his wide chest, a smile on his face as he surveilled Smooshie chomping away at her egg-laced kibble. He turned the wide charming smile on me, his blue eyes lit up with pleasure.
“Do you like your eggs?”
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded and chewed and loaded up the fork for the next bite.
Yep. Smooshie was definitely falling for this guy.
Chapter 8
Dally’s Tavern & Grill was on State Street. It was half restaurant, half local dive bar, and filled with a combination of locals of all ages and college-age kids. It had taken me a couple of outings to get used to the chaos. Shifter bars tended to be quieter and less social, but really, outdoors was a Shifter’s favorite place to drink. That way when the fighting broke out, there wasn’t any property damage, and trust me when I say that if you have more than one Shifter drinking, there will be damage, be it someone’s face or the nearest wall.
The wooden door with the rod iron handle that fronted the tavern had an old world feel to it that I liked. The interior was a combination of brick, metal, and neutral tones. The high ceiling was crossed with wooden beams with copper light fixtures dangling from them every couple of feet. Even so, the large room was dimly lit. The scents in the room were a combination of body odors, perfumes, colognes, hard liquors, and beer.
A pale blonde hostess, probably no more than twenty-one, met me when I walked inside. There were three people who trailed in right after me.
“How many?” she asked.
“I’m meeting a friend. Nadine Booth.” I raised my hand and up over my head. “About yea-high, brunette, about my age.” But really almost twenty years younger.
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