Keeper of the Peace (Graveyard Guardians #2)

by Jennifer Malone Wright

  Yeah, basically, you were telling him that you saw ghosts and you felt the need to protect them from monsters. There was absolutely no way that was going to go over well.

  These were exactly the reasons she had told herself long ago that it was probably for the best that they separated. Yet, once again, that didn’t take away the heartache and pain from the loss.

  One of the souls approached her, shimmering underneath the fluorescent lights. The misty blue shimmers swirled around her arm, winding upward until the mist lightly caressed her cheek.

  She felt her lips turn up into a wistful smile and another tear escaped from the corner of her eye. “I’m all right … thank you,” she whispered to the soul.

  The soul seemed to shimmer a bit brighter and its molecules broke away from each other in a spray of beautiful, blue mist, floating away from Hannah and regrouping over by the vaults.

  “Thank you,” she whispered again.

  Closing the folder, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, mentally preparing to go out into the hallway and deliver it to David.

  CHAPTER

  6

  DAVID

  An hour later, David slowed for the reduced speed limit sign and entered the city limits of Summer Hollow. He passed the deli and the shitty motel, and the old firehouse that was now a tire shop. The liquor store caught his eye and he realized he wanted to drink … he wanted to drink a lot.

  But, he had shit to do before he could do that. A lot of good he would be getting sloshed while he was investigating a murder case. So, instead of stopping and picking up a bottle of Patron, he turned left and took the back streets to the rodeo grounds.

  He parked in the same place he had parked earlier in the day and opened the folder for the report. Any other day he would have opened that folder the second he got his hands on it. The longer they waited, the farther away the killer could get. But, now he had other things on his mind. Hannah was probably the only thing that could have made his mind stray from the job.

  His eyes scanned the file for the information he was looking for.

  There was nothing.

  Not one fucking thing to go on. No skin under the nails, no hair, no residue … fucking nothing. This never happened, there was always some kind of evidence left on the body when someone was murdered, but this guy had zero.

  He shut the folder and stared at the wooden corrals in the distance. It was possible that the killer knew what he, or she, was doing and managed to clean the guy up before they ran off, but that would rule out his theory of self-defense.

  “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled, tossing the folder into passenger seat and shoving the driver door open. He took his time wandering over to the crime scene. All being in this place did was remind him of the last Summer Hollow rodeo that he had been at.

  Rodeo time was always one of the best days of the summer. Nothing was better than eating BBQ while watching the barrel racing and the bronc riders. One of his personal favorites was the little kids’ sheep roping, since he had been a participant in that when he was in elementary school.

  Hannah had been with him that last rodeo. They had walked the grounds together and stayed there all day, checking out the vendor booths, eating and laughing with their friends.

  The dance started in the evening and ended around midnight. People drank keg beer and two-stepped all night long to the local bands while their children ran wild in the surrounding woods. He and Hannah were only twenty at the time, but they were no exception to the drinking and dancing.

  Before he drove her home that night, they went to their spot at The Springs and that was when he told her he was leaving Summer Hollow.

  Perfect. Fucking. Timing.

  Obviously Hannah hadn’t taken it very well. He hadn’t been dumb enough to think that she was going to be totally on board so when that Estmond anger flashed, he took it full force. As if that weren’t enough, he let her brother Dan kick his ass the next day. The rumors were true, when you messed with one of the Estmond kids, you messed with all of them.

  That was the second to last time he had spoken to her before his return to town.

  He reached the yellow police tape and circled the area where the body had been found. The man had a fake ID and his prints didn’t match anything in the system, which meant he couldn’t question any friends or family. Without any evidence from the body, the best he could do at the moment was check around town and see if the victim had mentioned anything to anyone.

  The mud had dried considerably since he had been there earlier, so he walked around, looking for anything else that might give him an idea about who either of them were. They did have the tread prints from the killer’s shoes, which was something. He had just hoped for something more. What he really wanted was for this to be an open and shut case so that he could get the hell out of Summer Hollow.

  He pulled his cell out and checked the time. It was almost five, he could probably hit up a few of the businesses in town before heading back home for the night.

  With a blown up version of the victim’s photo from his fake ID in hand, he strolled into the small grocery store. Flashbacks of the past swarmed over him immediately. It may have just been a little market to everyone else, but for him, it was the place that changed his life.

  He had been thirteen years old when the SPD picked him up for shoplifting. After making a big show of putting him into the cruiser, the officer dumped him off at the station with Sheriff Davis.

  “Son,” Sheriff Davis sat across the desk with a folder sitting in front of him. “Did you honestly think you weren’t going to get caught in there?”

  David had glared back at him with the best defiant expression he could muster. “Doesn’t matter. I had to try.”

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair, giving David the once over. “Says here you were trying to take a pound of hamburger, a bag of rice and a Snickers bar.” He glanced up from the papers on his desk to see if that got any reaction from David.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, you weren’t stealing simply to steal. Those are the things people take when they are hungry.”

  David finally turned his head away and mumbled. “So am I arrested? Can I go now?”

  “No, you can’t go. David, you committed a crime and there are prices to pay when you do that.”

  “So send me to juvie, I don’t care.”

  The sheriff nodded his head in understanding. “So was that your plan, to get caught? At least they eat three meals a day in juvie, huh?”

  David hadn’t been able to say anything, because that was pretty much exactly what he had figured. If he had gotten away with it, he would have a food for the next couple of days and if he didn’t then he would go to juvenile hall.

  “Look, Son, I’m not going to arrest you, but I’m going to make another deal with you if you are interested.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I need some work done around here and out at my house. I got a shit ton of yard work that the missus and I don’t have time to do. I will pay you a decent wage, if you’re not opposed to working.”

  That statement was so far from what David had expected that he had only sat there with his mouth hanging open. The sheriff continued, “It’s summer and you have lots of free time. If it works out, then you can work after school when the school year comes round.”

  David still could not use his words.

  “Well?” The sheriff spread his hands wide, waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t know if my parents will let me. They don’t like cops.”

  Sheriff Davis gave a small nod. “I will talk to your parents.”

  “No!”

  The cop narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brows together. “Why don’t you want me to have a word with them?”

  The fact that his parents would find out he was shoplifting wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that he had been caught and that would send his father into a fit. “They don’t like cops. Like I said before.”

&nb
sp; “I won’t tell them what happened today.”

  David shook his head again. “Look, I’ll figure out a way, just don’t talk to them … please.”

  After a moment of silent contemplation the sheriff agreed. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone. But, if there is something you need to tell me … something that I should know about, I have an open door, all right?”

  Relieved, David leaned back in his chair. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

  “Now, it’s about time for me to head home.” He stood, grabbing his Stetson off of the hook near his desk. “Why don’t you come with me and meet the missus and then I’ll drop you off near your house.”

  After that, he worked almost every day at the Davis farm. His parents didn’t care where he was, since he was bringing home food and staying out of their way. During the school year, Mrs. Davis would make him sit down and do his homework at the kitchen table before he could get his work done. While he was doing his homework, she would give him a sandwich and a tall glass of milk for an afterschool snack.

  The Davis house became his second home and he pretty much owed everything to the sheriff and his wife. His life could have gone a completely different way, but instead, the sheriff took pity on him and that small gesture was what provided David with his dream of being in law enforcement.

  With these thoughts thick in his mind, he realized that he probably could have been nicer to the sheriff earlier. But, he shook it off quickly and strode up to the first cashier to see if she had seen the victim come into the store.

  He didn’t get any hits at the market, so he moved on to Brandy’s Café. “Hey Lisa,” he greeted the waitress behind the counter with a slight wave.

  “Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t David Foster,” she teased “Left the big city to come back to the little town of Summer Hollow.”

  David smiled and took a seat at the counter. “I’m not back. Just working on a case here.”

  Lisa frowned. “You mean the murder? Oh, that’s right, you’re a big wig detective now.”

  “Yes, I’m here for that case and yes, I’m a detective.”

  She frowned again. “Where’s your partner? On TV, the detectives always have partners with them.”

  David turned over his coffee mug and pushed it forward just a tad. Lisa got the clue and lifted the coffee pot from the burner. She filled his mug, leaving enough room for cream and sugar if he wanted it.

  “I don’t have a partner yet. Things aren’t always like television.” He told her.

  “Well, I would have figured it’s like the buddy system and all that. You know, safety in numbers.”

  He nodded. “It is. The department is in between personnel right now, so I had to take this one by myself.”

  Lisa smiled. “Ah, I see.”

  Opening the file, David lifted out the picture of the victim. “Speaking of the murder, you wouldn’t have happened to see this guy lately?” He handed the photo over to her so that she could get a good look at the guy.

  “Oh, yeah. I did see him.”

  Yes! Finally, a lead.

  “He came in here the other day, ordered a Philly cheesesteak sandwich.” She extended the photo out to him.

  He replaced the picture into the file and closed it. “Did he say anything about what he was doing in town?”

  She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head, thinking back. “Hmm … he did say that he was looking for a better place to stay. I don’t remember if he mentioned anything else.”

  Smiling, David lifted his coffee and took a testing sip. “Well, let me know if you think of anything. So far, this has been very helpful.”

  The doorbell jangled and she eyed the entrance. “Well, in that case, I am happy to have been of service. Now, I’d better get to work, it’s been nice seeing you, David.”

  “Same here, Lisa.” He finished his coffee and threw some cash on the counter for her. She had said that the guy was looking for a better place to stay, which meant he had probably been staying at the motel in town.

  He roared into the parking lot of the motel and swung into an empty spot in front of the office. Grabbing the folder once again, he got out of his car and hurried up the small stone steps into the minuscule office.

  Inside, a plump woman sat at a desk, tapping away on a computer. “I’ll be right with you,” she mumbled without looking up to see who had entered.

  “I’ll be right here,” he responded, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. He could clearly see the screen of the computer had a social networking site pulled up, so she obviously wasn’t working.

  He turned and checked out the office while he waited. There were two folding chairs up against the wall behind him, a cactus sat on a wooden table in front of the window and resting up against another wall was a rack which held brochures for area attractions.

  “There.” The woman pushed the keyboard back and turned toward him. “Now how can I help you? Are you looking for a room?”

  “No ma’am. I’m Detective David Foster. He flashed the badge attached to his belt. “I have reason to believe that this man may have been staying here.” He slid the photo onto the desk in front of her.

  She peered down at the picture and then lifted her gaze back up to David. “Why, yes. He actually has a room occupied right now.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth a look of concern washed over her face. “What did he do?”

  “Don’t worry ma’am, he’s not a threat. He was murdered sometime this morning.”

  Her hands went to her face, covering her mouth. “Oh my God! Really?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. So, you said that he has a room out with you now?”

  “Um, yes,” she nodded.

  “I am going to need to take a look at his room, if you don’t mind.”

  She stood and grabbed a key off the wall behind her. They were actual keys too, not those plastic card jobs that every other hotel gave you now days. “It’s room twelve. Do you need me to show you where it is?”

  David shook his head. “No, thank you, I think I can find it.” He accepted the key she held gripped in her extended hand, gave her a quick nod and headed out to find room twelve. So far, what bothered him was that the guy didn’t have a key on his body. If he was staying there, he should have been carrying a key around with him.

  Once he found room twelve he fit the key into the lock and swung open the door. For a moment he simply stood in the doorway, taking in the room and its contents.

  The bed was neatly made, there weren’t any clothes lying around, and everything appeared crisp and clean. This told him the housekeeper had been in and done her job, but it sucked because she may have cleaned up something that could have been useful for the case.

  Over by the bed, on the floor, was a small, black duffel bag. He hurried over and grabbed the bag, unzipped it and spread what was inside out onto the bedspread. All his hopes were dashed when all he found was a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, underwear, socks, deodorant and a toothbrush.

  “Shit.” He shoved all the items back into the bag and turned to look around the room. He bent down and looked under the bed, he opened the drawer to the nightstand, he searched the bathroom. Fucking nothing.

  Who the hell was this guy anyway? The fact that he wasn’t in the system was a huge red flag in itself. The only people he came across that didn’t have prints in the system were professional killers. The lack of evidence was certainly leaning toward this guy having such a career.

  He stood up and scanned the entirety of the room again. “Dammit, fucking figures.” He pulled the key from his pocket and shut the door behind him.

  CHAPTER

  7

  AIDEN

  Deep shit did not even begin to explain the situation that Aiden was in.

  He contemplated this thought as he sat at the dining room table on his boat. The waves rocked the small yacht gently, which should have been soothing, but Aiden’s worry only grew with each day that passed.

  His guns were spr
ead across the table in front of him with an open gun cleaning kit and a bottle of Jack.

  Jack.

  His best friend … his brother.

  Ever since the showdown in Napa, the Empress had put him on all the shit details. He had been one of her most trusted men in the Reaper Guard and then he had turned on her last second and saved Jack. He really didn’t give a shit about all the Keepers, they could have died for all he cared, but not Jack.

  That presented the biggest problem though. Jack was in love with a Keeper, and not just any Keeper, she was the Chosen One. The one who was prophesied to bring an end to the Reapers. Because of Jack’s treason, his mother, the Empress basically disowned him.

  Wait, no, that wasn’t right. During the battle Jack had renounced his family and everything that went along with it, including his title to the throne. But that didn’t change the fact that his mother basically didn’t give a flying fuck about her son.

  He set the gun he had just finished cleaning on the table and picked up the whiskey. Tipping back his head, his pulled straight from the bottle instead of filling his glass. He shivered a little as the warm liquid flowed down into his empty stomach and then picked up another gun.

  There was no way in hell he was going to let the Empress hurt Jack. But, there was no way in hell that Jack was going to let the Empress hurt his Keeper, or her family, apparently. He didn’t know what was going on with Jack and this Keeper, but he knew that they had a bond and it appeared to be unbreakable.

  This whole situation was fucked up. It had always been his intention for Jack to take the throne and make a change among the Reaper society. Over the years he had covered for him and gave him credit for multiple missions so that his mother and father would see him fit to be Emperor. But, Jack had fucked it up … again.

  Bottom line was this. He couldn’t stay here with the Empress now. The bitch had it out for him and severely questioned his loyalty, with good reason. The way things were at the moment, he knew he wasn’t safe in the Reaper society.

  Back at the Napa compound, he had seen the Empress fall completely off her rocker. She kidnapped a Seer, whom she intended to kill and had some bullshit ideas about taking the Keepers blood and doing all kinds of experiments with it. These actions were of a desperate woman, not the deliberate, well-thought-out plans of a leader.