Storm Crazy: A paranormal cozy romance (Destiny Paramortals Book 1)

by Livia Quinn

  “You could try trusting the authorities—me. I’m not trying to railroad you, or your brother. If you aren’t guilty, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Maybe in his world. But when it came to Destiny’s version of the real world—our im-mere-para-mortal realm—what would a human sheriff be able to do?

  “I’ve learned that trust is easily misplaced, so I’ll wait until it’s earned, if you don’t mind.”

  He looked pensive, then nodded beyond me toward my truck. “What’s the deal with the door locks?”

  Oh, you saw that did you? “Uhnn. It’s a little trick my father taught me.” Not exactly a lie, my abilities are inherited.

  “Handy skill, that. Most people I know who can do it are in jail.”

  “Make up your mind, Sheriff. Arrest me. Or Leave.”

  He held out a plastic bag. “Drop that thing in the bag, or I will take you into custody.”

  I was tempted to let him take me to jail so I could keep tabs on River’s amphora. How could I turn loose of it knowing River’s life depended on the fragile porcelain container? But I needed to be free to look for River, and even the amphora wouldn’t do River much good if I didn’t find the other lid.

  “Drop isn’t a word I want to hear regarding my brother’s twelve hundred year old bottle.”

  That shut him up.

  I took advantage of it. “Could I ask a favor of you?”

  He grunted. “You can ask, but I’m not feeling real charitable toward you right now.”

  “If I run into an emergency and, um, need the bottle back, temporarily…”

  “Tell me what kind of emergency could involve you needing an ugly old vase? And why should I grant you any favors?”

  I held my breath for a full three seconds before responding. “Because you understand what it would mean to lose someone you love.”

  His eyes narrowed and I could feel the thrum of mental activity, like he was working a puzzle. A puzzle called What’s Her Angle? but I couldn’t exactly explain. I could tell my comment hit the mark, though. He didn’t say anything, just pushed the bag toward me. I carefully placed the amphora inside.

  The gears kept grinding behind that discerning gaze. Time stretched as we stood nose to nose sizing each other up; all right, more like forehead to Adam’s apple. After a few moments of tension filled silence he said, “You know, I was this close,” he held his fingers a quarter inch apart, “from blowing you away.”

  I thought maybe that made him uncomfortable.

  He tweaked the brim of his hat a few too many times before setting it on his head. His eyes locked with mine. “I would have, if you’d hurt my daughter.”

  I was proud that my voice didn’t reveal the hurt I felt, “Seems that trust you mentioned, doesn’t run both ways.”

  He turned on his heel and left, taking the key to my brother’s survival with him.

  Jack

  After placing the bag with the vase in my trunk, I left Harmony Plantation and called Ryan at the clubhouse. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Building’s locked up and I’m stationed outside. Peggy said you cancelled backup. You get the Pomeroy woman?”

  “Yeah. Believe it or not, she was just being a Good Samaritan and gave Jordie a lift home because I was busy. Crazy, huh?”

  Ryan was quiet for a beat then asked, “So… you’re not taking her in? What about the B&E?”

  “Let’s just say, at this point, I don’t really have anything except the B&E to hold her on. She pointed out correctly that I didn’t really place her under arrest. She wasn’t thinking of the vase as a possible murder weapon.

  “Hell, it’s a mess, Ryan. She hasn’t slipped through the noose yet, though. She’ll have to deal with restitution to the golf club for the damage to the locker.”

  “You’re the boss.” Ryan sounded as if he was holding back; as if he thought I’d flipped. Maybe I had.

  “We know where to find her if we have questions. Look, I’m whipped. I’m going to check on Jordie and get some shuteye. Call me at 0300.”

  “Roger that.”

  I called my parents’ house. Jordie answered.

  Love, relief, and leftover fear engulfed me. Tempe had hit a nerve. She wasn’t telling me even a little of what was bothering her but it was a dead cinch it had something to do with her family, and how well I got that.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I heard about what happened over at the clubhouse…”

  I smiled. My curious teenager. “Heard about it from who?”

  “Whom, Daddy.”

  “Whom did you hear it from?” I chuckled when the exasperated sound came across the phone.

  “Melissa’s mom saw Tempe’s truck there and the Sheriff’s Department. She said a Medi-flight helicopter sat down in the golf club parking lot and somebody was put on the helicopter in a body bag. What happened…did somebody die…did Tempe see it…is she okay?”

  “Wait, wait.” I shook my head to clear it. “You know I can’t tell you anything, especially anything that might get back to Melissa’s mother.”

  Jane Fortune was Destiny’s answer to 900-PSYCHIC and the local gossip columnist. She made a good living from her three jobs though she got most of her news as a cashier at the Cajun Market in Alliance, then passed it on to her customers on the 900 number as psychic transmissions, and finally to the other facet of curious humanity on Fortune’s Telling, her local tabloid column for the Destiny Tribune.

  “She’s looking for gossip, honey, and I have a crime to solve. I can’t have her involved.” That was an understatement.

  “Daddy, you can trust me. Melissa knows I don’t gossip. I listen, but I don’t tell. Please.”

  I sighed. “You want me to pick you up?” I might as well; I wasn’t going to sleep until I saw her anyhow. The way I was feeling right now, she could skip school tomorrow and do a career day with her “daddy”.

  My new life—since the divorce and custody hearings revolved around Jordie, my brilliant, too mature little girl. My gut turned inside out when I thought about how close she was to being grown and on her own in a world that was getting more dangerous every day.

  My initial opinion of Destiny as a cozy traditional small town had been skewed slightly today, but still, a few eccentricities were nothing compared to the violence and wackiness I’d seen in Memphis.

  “I’ll be waiting outside—”

  “Oh, no you won’t. Just watch for me. I’ll be there in—”

  “Gotta take this call, Daddy,” and then nothing but dead air.

  “Damn. Someone’s got to teach that kid some phone etiquette.”

  Tempe

  I did not treat myself to tea as I’d said to Lang. I had more important things to do. Instead, I went searching among some old bottles for a replacement vessel for River’s genie force. The one I found would embarrass him among the Djinn population but then, I didn’t know of any other Djinn in our neck of the swamp, except a burgeoning newbie River had been mentoring. I picked a cheap glass model from over the kitchen stove, one that had probably served as a marijuana bong in an earlier life. Tomorrow I’d have to locate someone who could prepare it, or find a better one.

  Running high on adrenaline, I decided to search again for the missing lid. I went through the trash, emptied drawers, swept under River’s bed. “Whew, if you’re not in trouble, little brother, you’re going to face the music about eating in your bedroom.”

  I cleaned the entire house, marked bags for trash, including some bedside items, since I may never be interested in my own personal satisfaction ever again.

  The radio on the nightstand read 1:00am. It hit me then, staring at the digital readout, something so obvious I nearly threw up. River had gone AWOL from the Pomeroy family radio frequency. Not so much as a blip since…when?

  I sat on the bed, tugging on my hair, as if that could pull details out of my brain. I remembered conversations with Dylan and River and Aurora insisting that trai
ning was important for me to expand my awareness and connection to the environment, where my power lay. Aurora said my quickening was coming no matter what and my lack of control would just increase until I knew how to tap into it.

  I’d ignored them, determined to live like a mere-mortal, refusing to allow River or my mother to speak to me through the intimate mindlink. Not to mention avoiding discussions or attempts at initiating me into the valo, the path. What if my stubbornness, my refusal to accept my heritage, had ruined any chance to find River? Worse, what if I’d caused it somehow?

  What was I going to do?

  Jack

  Jordie and I sat outside in the car talking until her eyelids drooped and her head sank against my shoulder.

  “I liked her, Daddy.”

  “Who’s that, baby?”

  “Tempe. And I thought you might like her, too.” She tilted her head up and looked me square in the eye.

  I remembered the first time she’d done that, during my first leave home from Afghanistan. She’d been three, all pink, chubby cheeks and blonde curls. I was underneath my old 4X4 changing the oil when she crawled in next to me and propped her chin on one oily, plump palm. She’d regarded me intently, waiting with patience beyond her years until I put my wrench down. “What’s on your mind, Button?”

  She reached out and put her hand on my cheek like she’d seen my mother do when she was serious about something. I frowned, watching as her expressive green eyes curved downward. “It’s Mommy.” I started, keeping myself from gripping her little hand too hard. After a pause, to make sure I was listening, her serious cherubic gaze met mine and she said, “Mommy doesn’t yove me, Daddy. Wanna go ‘ive with grandpa.”

  If I hadn’t been on my back already, I’d have dropped to my knees. It had been a good thing I couldn’t get to her mother at that moment. I’d swallowed the lump in my throat and the blinding rage and pulled her in close, silently promising myself, and my baby girl, that she would not stay one day longer than necessary in that woman’s custody.

  My stomach still gripped painfully when I remembered that day. Flying out two days later had been the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I’d put a few safeguards in place with my parents.

  Now when she looked at me I recognized the same intuitive patience, so rare in a fifteen-year-old. I don’t know why that surprised me. Oh, yeah. Half of her came from me, but the other half came from the crazy maniacal bitch I’d been married to. Not that I’m a saint, but I must be pretty close to balance out her influence.

  “This morning, remember when she delivered—”

  “I remember.” Yeah, just thinking about the way Tempe had looked at me was making my pants uncomfortably tight, before she’d figured me for some kind of cradle robber. I chuckled. “You should have seen the look on her face when you came to the door this morning.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Come on, baby, time for bed. Want me to swing by and drop you at school so you can sleep through your study hall?”

  Jordie looked at me through long golden lashes and tugged her coat closer as she pulled away. “No. I promised to tutor one of the girls from French class during study hall. So,” she yawned, “I’ll catch the bus.”

  “Okay, then, let’s hit the sack.” I looked at my watch. Barely two hours until I had to spell Ryan. I’d made it on a helluva lot less sleep. If sleepless nights were the price for spending these precious hours with my baby girl, well, bring ‘em on.

  “I’ll call you and make sure you made your bus.” When we walked through the back door, she turned and hugged me. “I love you, Daddy.”

  My eyes burned as I hugged her tightly. “I love you, too, sweetheart. More than you can possibly know.” I kissed her on the forehead and turned her toward the hallway, “Now, to bed.”

  The last thing I thought about before falling asleep was the pain in Tempe Pomeroy’s eyes when she’d said, “‘I’ve learned trust is easily misplaced…’”

  The ex-husband and sheriff in me might agree, but the man couldn’t help but wonder who had destroyed her faith in men.

  Chapter 15

  Jack

  I dragged myself out of bed when Kirkwood called and after a quick shower, headed over to the crime scene. On my way, I checked in with the medical examiner’s office. The autopsy would be performed after their backlog of victims was processed. They estimated late afternoon.

  “Got a cause of death?” I asked the ME’s assistant.

  “Cause isn’t official, but my guess is blunt force trauma to the face—his nose cartilage has a new home. We’ll know for sure after the autopsy.”

  I hung up. Smart ass. Maybe they would come up with an impression or fragment that would lead to the weapon.

  I turned on the defroster and wiped at the fogged window with my sleeve. Through the smears I saw something huge dart across the road and into the tree line. A bear? Walking upright? I thought bears were rare around this part of Louisiana; for sure there were no grizzlies. I slowed, wiping faster, but Sasquatch was gone.

  I rubbed my tired, burning eyes. Coffee. I needed coffee.

  At the Easy Stop I purchased a large cup of Community coffee. One of the best things about living here was the rich, dark brew for which there was no comparison. I laced it with cream and three sugars and picked up the just delivered Destiny Tribune.

  Emblazoned the front page, impossible to miss was

  Mail carrier finds body in Enchanted Glen Clubhouse.

  I spread it against my steering wheel and read:

  Tempest Pomeroy, a mail courier for the ritzy golf club subdivision was discovered on the closed premises of the Enchanted Glen clubhouse, this reporter was told by a unanimous source.

  Rather than snicker as I usually did at the vocabulary gaffes of Melissa’s mom, the gossip columnist, I had the urge to strangle a certain fifteen year old. She could keep a secret, huh? Which was why I’d only told her what I wanted to put out to the public. She must have sent a text to Melissa before she went to bed. I read on…

  This is not the first time the Pomeroy name has gained public attention. Tempest Pomeroy’s father died under suspicious circumstances when she was a child, but this reporter can’t seem to remember—was a body ever found? Unnamed but pliable sources also claim that Ms. Pomeroy’s brother, River, has not been seen since early Monday morning, the same day of the unfortunate incident at the golf club.

  Whoa, who had the gossip been talking to? I really hated it when I was the last to find out about something significant. Funny how Tempest Pomeroy didn’t tell me her brother was WUK, whereabouts unknown. Wait until I got my chance at her again. Had Fortune made this up? Somehow I didn’t think so. I should have stopped there.

  Destiny’s new sheriff, Jack Lang, is on the job. He was seen interrogating Tempest Pomeroy at least three times Monday. That was an interrogation wasn’t it, Sheriff Lang?

  I threw the paper on the passenger seat and headed to Enchanted Glen. At the clubhouse, I broke Kirkwood from his shift and retrieved the vase from the back of my SUV. Sitting in the car beneath the light of the parking lamps, I studied the item in the evidence bag.

  The raised design on the base was that of a warrior, the upper body massive and distinct with detail fading and narrowing toward the bottom. Above the widest part where a short spout was located, was a ringed five-inch neck. The lid Tempe had found next to the body looked like a 3 inch long upside down witch’s hat.

  The thing looked like a drug user’s pipe. Could this whole case be drug related? I stuck the spout to my nose. No weed. No mildew. Absolutely pristine.

  I locked it up in my trunk again and walked back into the clubhouse. Kirkwood had used my camera to take pictures of the body before the coroner’s office picked it up.

  If I hadn’t been worried about Jordie, I never would have turned that responsibility over to someone else, not even a conscientious observer like Kirkwood. I’m not a control freak, but contamination of the crime scene isn’t something I like to
take chances with.

  In Memphis I’d developed a routine for working crime scenes, locking myself in with the dead guy to re-live his last moments. I had a portable kit that had some basics in it; tape measure, thermometer, liver temp checker, gloves, fingerprint kit, slides, body paint, and a stack of small notebooks. No one was allowed onto my crime scene until I’d completed my notes and taken photographs from every angle.

  Having lost my chance to shut myself in with the victim and do the first part of my routine, I could only hope Kirkwood had gotten some decent shots and kept the helicopter crew limited in their access to other parts of the crime scene. Come dawn though, I’d be able to examine the unpolluted outlying area around the building without distraction or interruption.

  I closed my eyes, imagining the scene as I’d found it—the blood, the victim…the smell. I flashed on an image of Tempe, that stolen vase gripped in her fists. In that moment she reminded me of a bird dog I had when I was a kid. I retired her from bird hunting the day I found her standing in the field, quivering, doe eyed with innocence as if to say, Who me?, bird feathers stuck to her mouth and one ear. That was Tempe.

  My instincts said she’d been in the moment with no thought about consequences. What was so important about that vase that she risked her job and her freedom? I stood in the doorway to the lounge. No other lockers were disturbed; all but that one, locked.

  I put myself in her place. She claimed that she’d seen the body, heard a noise in the locker room and, stupid woman, went to investigate. She said the attacker escaped when she entered.

  She said. I thought about Ryan’s question the night before. He seemed to think I should put Tempest Pomeroy in lockup for principle alone. No, not just on principle. I thought through the explanations Tempe had given and asked myself, if I’d ever just given a suspect in her position the benefit of the doubt without requiring more proof of their innocence. In this case, I was giving Pomeroy a pass or at the very least, I was withholding judgment until I had more to go on. It was crazy and bad detecting, but there was something else I hadn’t shared with Ryan that pointed to her innocence—in the murder at least.