Wrong Turn

by Catie Rhodes

  Uncle Roddy? Tanner and I exchanged an amused glance. We shared a fourteen-year-old boy’s sense of humor. This would be good for miles of giggles. Mandy’s lips quirked as though she knew the joke well and had anticipated it.

  "Let’s get off the street. Someone might hear and get offended." She held open the library’s door and motioned us inside.

  Though the library’s exterior was a downtown storefront, the inside resembled every other library I’d been inside. A circulation desk took up a large amount of space near the entrance. Beyond that stretched out shelf after shelf jammed with books. A staircase along one wall bore a sign telling visitors the genealogy center was upstairs with the non-fiction books.

  Mandy led the way to the circulation desk, opened the little swinging door to let us come behind it, and then unlocked a door marked employees only. "I’ve got a few early morning regulars who come in to read the newspaper and gossip. They’ll likely know who you are and be upset you’re here. If they report me to Mrs. Burris…" She shrugged. "There’s not many jobs in Devil’s Rest."

  Tanner and I nodded our understanding and went inside the tiny office. Mandy motioned to two chairs in front of a cluttered desk. We sat, and she went behind the desk. The name plate in front of the desk claimed it as Mrs. Burris’s desk. Mandy caught me reading the sign.

  "I’m just assistant librarian. I do have my papers—my degree, I mean—but Mrs. Burris has been the head librarian here since dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’m really just a glorified flunky, and my paycheck shows it." She tittered a little, but her eyes didn’t smile.

  "It’s not my business, but why not go to one of the cities and get a job? Surely they’d pay more." Tanner asked in his perfect California-speak.

  I didn’t need to ask this question. I already had an idea of the answer.

  "I’m hooked on the history of the Messengers. Mom grew up here and used to tell it to scare the wits out of me. When I got old enough, I started coming here and researching. The first attempts were kid stuff." She gave us an embarrassed smile. This one touched her eyes, crinkling them at the corners. It gave her generally unattractive features a little boost. "But I’ve gotten better over the years. There’s a local group of us who are pretty into it. We meet once a month to exchange information. You’re staying out at Devil’s Slumber, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Dwight Carr’s in our group." She laughed, a true laugh, throaty and full of life at whatever she saw on my face. "Yeah. He’s an odd one, and he’ll cheat you if he can. Try to get into your pants too." Her cheeks colored, and I guessed she’d fallen victim to Dwight’s unique charm. "But Dwight’s a good researcher. He tracked down Loretta Nell Grimes’s backstory. Where she grew up, went to school, that sort of thing."

  "Did anything he found indicate what got her interested in…" I shook my head and shrugged at the end of the sentence, not sure how to say it without being crass.

  Mandy finished the sentence for me. "In murdering people for Jesus?"

  "Did Loretta Nell and the Messengers really commit murder for Jesus?" Tanner had been glancing around the office as though looking for something in particular. Now he turned his attention on Mandy.

  Mandy’s gaze flicked over Tanner. She caught me watching and her cheeks reddened. She cleared her throat and made a point to speak to me instead of Tanner.

  "You’ve seen the website, right? The Message? Dwight loves it. He’s always directing people to it. I find it a little tasteless, but…” She bared her teeth in an embarrassed smile.

  I nodded. "We read through the whole thing before we came here."

  "You found the eyewitness reports of Loretta Nell proselytizing on the campus of UT?” She asked.

  Both Tanner and I nodded.

  “That’s what I mean by killing people for Jesus. We know nothing beyond that." Cheeks still pink, she stared at the desk several seconds, eyes moving. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “Not at all.” Another connection clicked into place, this one inspired by the vision I’d had in the barn at Stephens Ranch. Loretta Nell had used Mohawk’s book to get that church youth group, or whatever they’d been, to murder each other. She’d been practicing a religion, all right. Just not the Christian one.

  A bell dinged in the library. Mandy excused herself, greeted someone from the door, and came back to sit down. "You’re welcome to ask Dwight about his research into Loretta Nell’s history, but he’ll want to charge you for it. He wouldn’t even allow the rest of the group to copy what he’d found."

  "Is it worth paying for?" Tanner had assumed his usual thinking position, elbows on his knees, gorgeous biceps bunched, fists clasped under his chin.

  "I don’t think so." The door dinged again. Mandy greeted another patron. When she came back to the desk, she was antsy, probably ready for us to go. "Uncle Roddy said the two of you were looking for a book."

  "Your uncle told us you’d know if it had been taken into evidence," I said.

  She shook her head. "I looked at my list this morning after Uncle Roddy called, and there’s no record of it."

  Ugh. Another waste of precious time. My shoulders rounded.

  Mandy spoke quickly as though she knew I’d probably get up and leave soon. "Uncle Roddy said you had a picture. May I see it?"

  I dug it out.

  Her eyes lit with interest. "May I get a copy of this?"

  I nodded and watched as she snapped a few photos with her phone. When she finished, she pushed it back to me.

  "Dwight’s history of Loretta Nell Grimes doesn’t include anything about that book. All our group has about it is Uncle Roddy’s story, which he said he told you."

  I wondered just how much of the story Uncle Roddy had told his niece. I bet not all of it.

  Mandy stared at her phone and used her fingers to enlarge the picture she’d taken. "Well, look at that," she whispered.

  "What?" I half stood, trying to see what she saw.

  "Wait a minute." She tapped her phone a few times, and her laptop dinged. "I sent it to my laptop. Come here and look."

  Tanner and I got up and crowded around her. She enlarged the picture until it was fuzzy and pointed with the tip of a pencil at a metal clasp holding the cover shut. A blurry key stuck out of it.

  She tittered. "Just a book nerd thing."

  I glanced at Tanner. He shrugged and tipped his head at the door. I gave a slight nod. Mandy was still engrossed in the picture.

  I gathered my bag. Then I thought of something to ask Mandy. "Do you know much about the massacre of the Stephens family? I saw the graffiti on the house."

  "Oh, you want to know about Josie. Now that’s an odd story." She licked her lips and leaned forward.

  My stomach twisted in disgust at her relish. That massacre had been a tragedy. Innocent lives lost. I worked to keep the revulsion off my face. Mandy began her story.

  "Josie was found on the road right outside Stephens Ranch. If you’ve been out there, you know the ranch is a couple of miles off the road. She was barefoot and leaving blood tracks with every step. And—get this—her face was covered with gore. Like she’d taken a bite out of someone.” Mandy’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared.

  My stomach rolled.

  "Had she?" Tanner’s olive skin had turned a sick shade of green.

  Mandy shook her head so hard her earrings clacked together. "Not that the cops could find. Wait a minute, I take that back." Her lips stretched into a greedy smile. "The victims had been…chewed on. But the gore on Josie’s face didn’t belong to any of her family members. Josie always said Loretta Nell was there with her. Seems there was someone else there." Mandy’s eyes glowed with pleasure.

  I wanted to get away from Mandy as soon as possible. Her delight in all this horrible, hurtful stuff sickened me.

  "But that’s not the kicker." Her smile widened, showing even more teeth. "When they found Josie, she kept screaming, ‘Take me back. I need the book.’" Mandy held up her phone and showed us th
e picture she’d taken. "We knew from Uncle Roddy’s story that there’d been a book. We’ve spent hours discussing what it was. This has to be it."

  The bell outside dinged again. Mandy pushed back from her desk, a sure sign she needed us to beat it.

  "Is there anything else I can help y’all with?" Her eyes darted to the door.

  "Roderick mentioned Josie's in a mental hospital..." I began.

  "Josie’s at the state mental hospital in Austin." She walked to the door, peeked out, and held it open. I started to step out, but she blocked my way. "Wait a second. Mind if I ask why you’re looking for the book?"

  "A collector engaged us to find it." I knew that wouldn't do it. Mandy was too curious to leave it there. But I wasn't a good enough liar to think of something completely off-putting on the spot.

  Sure enough, she clicked the door closed and whispered, "Who? And what do they want with it?"

  Tanner saved me having to answer. "I've been in this business since I started working for my father back in California when I was fourteen. You learn not to ask.”

  Tanner cracked a crooked, charming smile for Mandy. I could practically see her heart fluttering. Wanting to leave before she thought of more questions, I squeezed around her.

  "Wait." She led me around a corner and pointed at an exit hidden at the back of the room. "Sorry. The fewer patrons who see you, the better."

  I nodded my understanding and hurried to the door, Tanner close behind me.

  We managed to get out of the library without telling her anything more. Later, when it was much too late, I wished I had warned her.

  8

  Back out on the sidewalk, Tanner took my hand and caressed it with one rough thumb. I gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. He hugged me. I hugged back, drinking in the comfort he offered.

  Tanner was the best part of my life. And we’d just stumbled across each other. The twist of fate both fascinated and humbled me. Life wasn’t all bad.

  An elderly man wearing black horn-rimmed glasses stopped to stare at us. "You the one who caused the ruckus at Phil’s Monkey Burger?"

  Sweat tingled on my scalp. The smell of the cheap motel soap reached my nostrils as my body heated.

  The man came a little closer. Tanner stiffened, shoulders expanding, arms lifting away from his body in silent threat. He’d hit if it came down to it.

  The man stopped a couple of feet away. "Two ’a you need to get outta town. We don’t take kindly to strangers coming in here snooping around."

  "Understood." Tanner’s deep voice didn’t sound like he understood. It sounded like he was about one word from kicking this oldster’s ass all the way to the city limits sign. The man must’ve heard it too. He made a wide loop around Tanner and me and went into the library.

  This town gave me the creeps. Too many shades of Gaslight City. I couldn’t wait to get out. Tanner gave me a gentle tap on the arm.

  I spun around to face him and nearly yelled, "What?"

  He put up both hands and took a step back. "I just asked if you still want to go to the mental hospital."

  Wishing we could go back to holding hands and flirting, I tried to smile. "I guess. Unless you have a better idea?"

  "Hate to admit it, but I don’t. We don’t have any other stones to turn over here in town." He slipped an arm over my shoulder and led me to the truck.

  "You're right." I stared into the brightening sun, calculating how high it was in the sky, thinking about how much time had passed since Mohawk woke me up and told me I had seventy-two hours. I handed Tanner the keys and crawled into the passenger side.

  Tanner climbed behind the wheel and began fiddling with his phone. "Damn. No signal."

  "We’ll have to wait until we get out of this devil’s triangle to get directions." My mind tallied up the extra time lost and told me I needed to worry some more.

  Tanner carefully followed the speed limit through Devil’s Rest. Neither of us had voiced it, but this would be a bad place to have a run-in with law enforcement. Traveling with Cecil and Sanctuary had helped me develop a sense of such things. Tanner, who’d spent his entire adult life searching for magical items, had developed it for his own reasons, which I suspected were not always one hundred percent legal.

  Once we passed the Devil’s Rest city limits sign, Tanner sped through the parched landscape, at times going ninety miles per hour. He took chances I wouldn’t have, passing when he wasn’t supposed to and swerving onto the shoulder to get around slower moving vehicles. It scared me, but I wanted him to hurry. This trip to see Josie might be another piss in the wind. Then where would we be?

  Tanner, as he did when he knew I was upset, babbled. "That Mandy chick was a new kind of weird."

  I shrugged. "Look at Devil’s Rest. Probably the only social life she has is dredging up that horror and going over every detail. The way she talked to us is probably the way she talks to the other members of that group."

  Tanner nodded, gaze fixed on the road. He never dismissed an idea just because he didn’t have it first. He’d mull over what I said and tell me days later he agreed or didn’t.

  "About that group." Tanner turned to me. "If you want the information Dwight has on Loretta Nell Grimes, tell me. I’ll twist it out of him."

  I nodded. Tanner was probably still mad about the way Dwight had gouged him for information on my whereabouts and directions to the Stephens Ranch. I hated to let Tanner strong-arm information out of Dwight. We were already leaving a way bigger footprint in Devil’s Rest than felt safe. I began chewing on the fleshy part of my index finger, not hard, just enough to offset the pain of my tense muscles.

  Periodically, I checked my phone. Finally it had a smidgen of service. I got directions to the mental hospital. We drove straight there. I gasped when it came into sight.

  "Holy shit," I muttered.

  "No shit." Tanner pulled into a parking place and leaned forward so he could see the whole thing.

  The building was huge. Four stories and maybe an attic level. The building’s front had snowy white Georgian columns across the front. To each side of the columns, a long wing jutted out. Despite the new paint and clean grounds, the place gave me the creeps.

  I took out a cigarette with shaking hands and tried to light it, but my lighter hand trembled so hard I couldn’t hit the tip.

  Tanner reached over and steadied my hand. "This the same place you got sent as a kid?"

  I dragged deep and shook my head. "Place I got sent was newer. And closer to where we lived in East Texas."

  Tanner shook his head. "I’ll never get used to all the distance in this state. East, West, South, North. Each part is considered a different place. I can’t keep them straight."

  I nodded, too wired up to formulate an answer. It isn’t like they’re going to try to commit me. I can go in there, just like everybody else. It’s a public place. I drew hard on the cigarette, crushed it out in an ashtray full of butts, and turned to Tanner. "I gotta go in now."

  He unbuckled his seatbelt.

  I put my hand on his arm. ”You don’t have to come. Josie might talk more if it’s to another woman.”

  But the truth was, I wanted that California cool Tanner could put on like a pair of shades.

  Tanner ignored me, got out of the truck, and came around the side of the truck to open my door. "Let’s do this.”

  I just sat there staring at the huge mental hospital, remembering my time in such an establishment. He gently pulled me out of the truck.

  "I didn’t know it would bother me this much." I tried to laugh.

  "Most traumatic experience of your childhood? Please. I’m surprised you’re walking." He took my arm and led me across the parking lot.

  The building seemed bigger each step we took. As we neared it, fear slipped so deeply into my mind that I couldn’t even read the signs telling visitors where to go. Tanner put one arm around my shoulders and led me through a double set of French doors in which the panes were so old the glass had dips and
imperfections. Like the Georgian columns, the doors were whitewashed a blinding white. He walked me to a window with a sign that read "Visitors Check In Here."

  I expected to see a nurse wearing a crisp white uniform, her hair done in a severe, old-fashioned bun. It would have completed the spooky vibe of the place. Had that person been waiting to check us in, I might have run screaming. As luck would have it, the lady behind the window had long, curly ginger hair and wore a set of brown scrubs with delicate yellow flowers.

  "Help you guys?" She picked up a clipboard with a pen attached.

  "We’d like to see Josie Stephens, please." Tanner put on his most polite smile, but his bar brawl nose and piercing eyes made the grin look more like a hungry tiger’s than a friendly dog’s.

  The smile slid off her face. "I’ll need to see some ID, please."

  Tanner and I exchanged a quick glance. I nodded, and we both pulled out our driver’s licenses and handed them over. The nurse, if that’s what she was, read them carefully. She handed the IDs back and took a step away from the glass.

  "Josie Stephens has a visitors list. We are ordered to follow that list to the letter. Anybody who’s not on it can’t get in." She gave us a flat-eyed stare.

  I couldn’t move. All this way, and I wouldn’t even get to see Josie.

  "Can’t you just ask her if she’d be willing to see us?" Tanner’s voice was still calm, but I heard the edge in it.

  One look at the nurse gave me her answer. Sure enough she opened her tight lips and said, "No, sir. Ms. Stephens is not an attraction. She had an extremely traumatic experience, and she deserves to be left in peace."

  Another nurse, this one wearing hot pink scrubs, came inside. She waved at the nurse behind the glass, walked across the room, and went up a staircase I hadn’t noticed before. If only I could pass myself off as a nurse. A flash of inspiration hit me. I could do that exact thing.

  "But this is important, ma’am, a matter of life and death." Tanner’s voice rose just a little.