“Yeah, no doubt.” Baxter gave a little shudder. “So you and Vivien met at NYU? And you both ended up back here? Small world,” he said, then took another pull from his beer.
“Yeah, we met at NYU. I was finishing med school there, and a mutual friend introduced us because we were both from Michigan. I grew up near Grand Rapids, and when my pop retired, he and my mom moved here because they’d visited a few times and she wanted to be near the lake. Pop didn’t argue—I don’t know, maybe he had a feeling she was going to get sick and go sooner than he was…and so they lived here about seven years before she died. Small world for sure that Vivien and I both ended up back here, eleven years after we—after our thing. This is pretty good, by the way,” Jake said, gesturing with his longneck. “What is it?”
“Oh, it’s an IPA I’m testing with a hint of orange and clove,” Baxter replied. “It might do well around the winter holidays. I’m thinking of calling it Firelight.”
“Works for me,” Jake replied. “Works for me just fine.”
He was just tipping out the last bit of brew when a pair of headlights swept the dark parking lot. Jake jammed the bottle into a cup holder, and they both tensed as a car pulled into the lot and drove slowly around…then eased up right next to his Lexus.
Before he could react, a bright light blared into the car, blinding him, and he heard someone say, “Both of you step out of the vehicle. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
It was a female voice, but it wasn’t Vivien. Baxter swore furiously under his breath and gave an unhappy sigh as he set down his beer to comply with the order.
Jake also did as instructed, and just as he stepped outside the car, he recognized the woman standing there in her blue uniform. A very large dog sat on the ground next to her, and he didn’t appear very happy. His ears were up, his eyes were sharp, and he was showing a few teeth.
“Oh, Officer van Hest,” said Jake in a hearty voice, hoping it would tell the dog they were friends. “We were just talking about y—”
“Jake DeRiccio. And Baxter? What are you doing here?” The fact that her voice showed surprise and had lost its cop tone indicated she didn’t consider either of them a threat. But she didn’t exactly sound friendly, either. “Well, since I’m pretty sure you’re not doing what the two guys were doing in the last car I found in a dark parking lot, let me guess…you’re watching out for whoever is breaking into the theater.”
“Hi, Helga,” said Baxter weakly.
“It’s Officer van Hest when I’m on official business,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, and shifted so the badge pinned to her spectacular rack glinted in the headlights. “Like now.”
Baxter exhaled a pained sigh, but didn’t reply.
“I’m guessing Vivien doesn’t know you’re here,” Helga said.
“No, she doesn’t. Can I put my hands down now?” said Jake.
“Yeah, go ahead. It’s okay, Butch,” she added to the dog. “They’re harmless. Especially him,” she said dryly with a look at Bax.
The German shepherd changed immediately from ears perked up, mouth closed, eyes sharp to panting happily. He came out of his sitting position to approach Baxter, who crouched to greet him.
“I expect you had the same idea,” said Jake. “Checking on the property.”
“Yes.” Helga looked past him, shining her light into his car as she walked around it. “Is that an open bottle of alcohol in there? No, two bottles?”
Shit. Crap.
“Um…I don’t know what you’re looking at,” he said innocently as Baxter muttered something again, standing upright once more.
“And the keys are in your ignition, Dr. DeRiccio,” she went on coolly. “Looks like you were going somewhere with open alcohol in your vehicle.”
Jake kept his mouth shut and hoped Helga had heard more than Vivien’s side of their breakup story…otherwise, he was in deep shit.
“Mr. James, it appears there’s an entire case of beer from B-Cubed in the conveniently located back seat of this vehicle—not in the hatch—and there are several bottles open in the front seat.” Helga was not amused, and Jake felt Baxter squirming next to him.
Neither of them said anything as Helga continued her circuit of the vehicle, shining her light through each window. Baxter managed to give Jake a miserable look when she was at the back of the car, then he erased the expression when she came back around, looking into the driver’s-side rear window.
“All right, you two—both of you know better than to—”
She stopped abruptly at the sound of a vehicle crunching over the gravel near the front of the theater. They all spun around as a car came into view from around the front. The approaching vehicle stopped suddenly and then, with a sudden roar of its engine, accelerated, turned with a spurt of gravel, and blasted out of the parking lot.
“Shit! Shit!” cried Helga as she sped toward her patrol car. “Butch! Let’s go!”
But she was moving so fast, and the dog was suddenly whipped up into such excitement from the tone of her voice, that when she took off, Butch ran in front of her. She tripped over him and nearly took a header onto the hood of Jake’s car.
Baxter caught her just before she connected with metal. She pulled roughly from his grip, still trying to get to her car…but by then, it was obviously too late.
The other vehicle was gone and the night was silent of any sound but the distant rumble of a car engine.
“Shit!” Helga exclaimed again, and ran to her car anyway. “I’ll be back,” she said to Butch as she yanked open the door. “Watch him,” she said to the guys.
Her dog obviously thought this was a game, as he was running around in circles and barking and generally getting underfoot. Baxter grabbed the dog’s collar to keep him out of the way as the patrol car roared to life and squealed out of the parking lot, sending another spray of gravel shooting toward the three of them.
“Hell,” said Jake, staring after the red taillights. “That was—”
“Quick, get rid of the beer and empty bottles before she gets back,” Baxter said, already diving into the Lexus.
“All of it?” Jake said, shocked and dismayed. “Don’t be silly, she’s not going to—”
“Oh yes she will,” Baxter said, emerging with the two empty bottles. “Dude, I’m serious. Get that case out of there. We’ll stash it somewhere and come back for it later. If she doesn’t find it first.”
A little shocked at his friend’s tight nerves, Jake nonetheless did as he was told. After all, Baxter knew Helga better than he did.
But he wasn’t about to throw the beer away, so he took the case over to one of the Dumpsters and put it on the ground behind it, safely in the shadows.
When he came back, he found Baxter giving Butch another good scratch.
“We could just take off if she hadn’t left him, you know,” he said, standing as Jake approached. “She planned it that way. She is so going to arrest us.”
Jake smothered a laugh, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
“Trust me, I know that woman. I—” He bit off the rest of his words as a pair of headlights turned rather sedately into the parking lot.
Butch perked up—he must have recognized the sound of his mistress’s vehicle—and sat, waiting expectantly with his eyes trained on the police cruiser. By contrast, Baxter sagged a little and leaned back against Jake’s car, arms folded over his middle as if waiting for the axe to fall.
“I didn’t catch him,” Helga said as she approached with long, easy strides. “Did either of you see a license plate? Or anything to help identify the type of vehicle?” Her blue eyes were sharp and demanding in the glow from the headlights.
“Uh,” Baxter said. “It was dark and pretty big…not an SUV but larger than a compact. I didn’t see anything on the license plate except that it was a dark color and the numbers were light or white.”
“Yeah, it looked blue or black to me,” said Jake. “Probably a sedan of some sort.”
&nb
sp; Helga slapped her hands on her hips and heaved an exasperated sigh. “That’s all you got? You were facing it as it drove into the lot, guys. You didn’t see anything else that might help? The shape of the driver, maybe—general height or anything?”
Jake closed his eyes, trying to call up the image in his memory. “No, I didn’t really see anyone inside the car—well, just the head of one person. So they were alone. And the headlights weren’t on. Obviously they were trying not to be noticed—so that’s probably an indication they were up to no good.”
Helga muttered something that sounded like duh.
“Okay, wait,” said Baxter suddenly. “The brake lights—I saw them come on as the car turned around before it sped away. They were an unusual shape… Let me think about it. I might be able to draw a picture.”
“That would be good,” Helga said in a slightly less aggrieved tone. “That might keep you out of jail tonight, anyway.”
“Jail?” For the first time, Jake thought she might be serious. “Tonight?”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Yes. Jail.”
“What for, officer?” Baxter said innocently. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We were just sitting there in the car.”
She looked at him and shook her head. “I suppose you’ve disposed of it. I can’t believe you’d destroy a whole case of B-Cubed, so where’d you put it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Officer van Hest,” Baxter replied. “Go ahead and look around—Jake won’t mind if you search his vehicle, will you, Jake?”
“Just draw the damned lights for me,” she retorted. “I’m going to take a look around.”
She pulled the long, powerful flashlight from its mooring at her belt and turned it on. Damn, it was so bright that Jake’s eyes burned.
He wasn’t sure whether he should go with her or not, but figured she had her dog, the flashlight, and she was a trained cop—plus they’d already run off the intruder—so she was probably just fine on her own.
Instead, he stood there exactly where he’d been when the dark vehicle pulled into the lot and tried to remember the details. There was no question that whoever had arrived and then so speedily departed had been up to no good, and the probability was very high that the driver was the perpetrator of the nasty things that had been happening to Vivien.
He was certain there’d been only one figure in the car, for there was an instant when the moonlight threw illumination into the vehicle, front to back, and he remembered seeing only one head. So whoever it was had been working alone—at least tonight they were.
He hadn’t seen the strange, distinct brake lights, and he hoped whatever Baxter sketched out was helpful—and accurate.
“Didn’t find anything of interest back there.” Helga’s smug voice caught his attention, and Jake turned to see her carrying the case of B-Cubed he’d stashed behind the Dumpster.
“Told ya,” Baxter muttered.
She sauntered up with the case tucked under her arm, and without even asking, she went around the back of Jake’s Lexus and opened the hatch.
“Come on, Butch,” she said, inviting the dog to leap into the back of Jake’s car as she perched on the tailgate. “Take a load off, big guy.”
A moment later, Jake heard the distinct thook of a cap being popped off a longneck, followed by a feminine sigh of pleasure.
He looked at Baxter, who just shrugged and wandered around the back. “Why, officer, I’m shocked to find you drinking while on duty,” Baxter said.
Helga lifted her chin and took a good, long drag from the bottle. When she put it back down, she took her time swallowing then said, “I’ve been off-duty for almost an hour now.”
“I had a feeling,” Baxter replied. But when he reached for one of the beers in the case, Helga smacked his hand back.
“Excuse me, sir—this is official contraband.”
“Contraband? You didn’t confiscate that—”
“No, but I found it. Last I heard, possession is nine-tenths of the law…which also says I don’t have to share if I don’t want to. And why,” she said, tipping the sweating bottle up to her lips again, “would I want to share such an excellent brew?” She grinned around the lip of the bottle, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at Baxter’s consternation.
“So how are you going to get home, then, now that you’ve had some ‘open alcohol’?” Baxter demanded.
“Why, Dr. DeRiccio is going to drive me in this very nice vehicle in an hour or two after we wait to make sure no one decides to come back and poke around here at the theater. Since the doc won’t be having any more to drink, he can be the DD.”
“Hey, wait a minute—” Jake began, but Baxter was already reaching around Helga to fish out a beer for himself.
“You heard the officer, Jake,” Baxter said with a grin as he popped the top and took a long pull. “You’re the designated driver.”
“You know, Helga, all you had to do was ask for a beer,” Jake said dryly. “We would have shared.”
“But, you see, the way it all worked out, I’ve acquired an entire case of B-Cubed—and I’ve got some backup in case anything else happens here tonight.” She smiled brightly, leaned against the car, and took another long pull from the longneck. “Now, Baxter, get me that drawing so we can figure out what kind of car that bastard is driving. And since he drove through all that glass, let’s hope he’s got a flat tomorrow.”
It was dark when Vivien awoke, and very quiet. She had to scrabble around for her phone to see what time it was, then squinted and blinked when its light blared into the darkness. Two thirty a.m.
She lay there for a moment, listening to the silence—so unusual for someone used to being in the city. No horns, no engines or planes, no shouts or music or clangs or sirens…
Did she like it? Or did she wish she were back where everything was happening all the time, where she could get takeout of any ethnic—or not ethnic—cuisine in the world whenever she wanted?
Where she was safe from whatever threatened her here.
Vivien’s wry laugh was sharp in the silent darkness. “Imagine that, Liv—I was safer in New York City than I am here in little Wicks Hollow.”
A light brush over her left arm, lifting the hair there, told her Liv heard her and was amused as well.
Then the flash of dry humor evaporated, because what was there to laugh about?
She threw off the bedcovers and rose, the flimsy summer nightgown light and airy around her thighs. There was no air conditioning in this little old bungalow, so fans, open windows, and cool clothing were de rigueur for July and August. At least it wasn’t as hot as it was in the city, where the flat concrete absorbed and reflected all the heat—and baked all the smells from the perennially waiting trash cans.
She padded out from the bedroom on bare feet, heading toward the kitchen for something to eat. Light streamed in from the front door and the windows beside it, as well as by the back door leading into the fenced-in yard, so she didn’t need to turn on any of the interior lights.
She came into the living room and saw a dark shape rearing by the sofa. She froze, her heart surging into her throat as she strangled back a scream.
The shadow spilled over the floor in front of her, and its shape was horribly familiar: long, straight, with a flat, slanted end.
Chapter Thirteen
Vivien lived an eternity of horror before she realized the horrible shadow was from the Nutcracker headpiece she’d set on the table.
Its grinning white teeth caught the light from outside and seemed to glow in the dim light, and the mask’s wide-open eyes appeared to fixate on her as she fought to get her heart to start beating again.
“All right. I’m good. It’s all good,” she said, walking past the living room into the tiny kitchen.
She was hungry—the olives and bread at Jake’s had been a long time ago, and not nearly enough of a meal after the way she’d been running around all day at the theater. But, as Helga had pointed out, t
here was very little in the cupboards and next to nothing in the fridge. And since it was two thirty in the morning, there was nowhere she could order from in Wicks Hollow.
“Guess it’s gonna be frozen pizza,” she said. Again. And hummed “Food, Glorious Food.”
She really needed to go to the grocery…but now, she realized with an unhappy sigh, she didn’t even have a car to get her there. She would have changed her tune, but she couldn’t think of a song that was called “I’m So Screwed” or “My Life Is a Hot Mess.”
Ugh.
Vivien sank into a chair at the Formica kitchen table and rested her forehead in her hands.
No car. No transportation. And no Uber here in town.
Someone was trying to scare her away from the theater. Threatening her.
She’d been an asshole to Jake, who wasn’t as much of a dickwad as she’d been telling herself he was for a decade and a half.
And…something very strange had happened at the theater with the eerie shadow that glided across the stage and the floor of the pit. Very strange, very creepy…very unsettling.
The oven beeped suddenly, startling her so much that she squeaked a loud gasp. Vivien swore at herself for being an idiot as she rose to put in the pizza.
Then she opened up her tablet and began to scroll through the messages she hadn’t gotten to earlier today, and tried not to think about all of the other icky things.
She lost track of time dealing with her clients—but at least things were progressing. She had just closed two influencer deals for clients who’d be posting videos or pictures on social media (which Vivien would help design and produce), and that would bring in a commission of a couple thousand dollars over the next two months.
And she was still waiting to hear whether GetBack Togs was going to accept an even more lucrative proposal for Louise London. Vivien was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even realize how much time had passed until she smelled something unpleasant… Something was burning—the pizza!
Crap! She bolted from the table so fast she knocked over her chair just as the smoke detector went off, shrilling horribly in the silence.
Sinister Stage: A Ghost Story Romance and Mystery (Wicks Hollow Book 5) Page 15