Missing, Suspected Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective

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Missing, Suspected Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective Page 24

by Rachel Graves


  “So now what?” I asked the two of them.

  “Give us a minute, go check on your man,” Jo told me, pulling LaRue into the shadows. I had a brief thought that one of the bad guys might still be alive, just incapacitated but I pushed it away, not wanting to think about where it would lead.

  I found the man I loved by the town car, relaxing against the hood.

  “You doing all right?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty fucking far from all right, but I’m okay for now.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Take me on vacation?”

  I expected us to laugh, but instead he hugged me. We kept it up for a few seconds, then relaxed. Our bodies stayed that way, lounging against the hood of the car. The night went back to what it had been before the gunshots and magic. I heard little noises in the park, animals and crickets returning to their routines. If it wasn’t for the smell of blood in the air it’d be a completely normal night. A pair of headlights started up the path and I began to think of excuses: what I would tell the cops, how we could handle it. As the car got closer, totally different questions came to me.

  “That’s my car.” The familiar white exterior could leave no doubt but that didn’t help my confusion. When Calvin got out of the driver’s seat, it got even worse. I walked over to him bewildered.

  “You’re driving my car?” I asked him.

  “Someone had to get it here.”

  “Right, but my car…”

  “You leave a spare key in your kitchen drawer.”

  “I locked the apartment.”

  “I can turn into mist.”

  “And you drove my car.”

  Calvin looked over at the dripping mess we’d left behind. “You’re worried about your car after that?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  “It’s fine,” he laughed. “Have a safe drive back.”

  “Hey Calvin, wait. I want you to teach me that phone number trick.”

  He laughed.

  “I’ll buy you a bottle of whatever you want.”

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, first you bite someone who works for—”

  “Stop! I do not want to know.”

  “Told ya.” He winked at me.

  Ted walked over and put his arm around me. I smiled and leaned into him. “You want to drive?”

  “I thought I would,” William said, joining us.

  I didn’t like people driving my car, but maybe that was petty. “Sounds great.”

  “Sure you don’t want to go out?” Jo called to me. Calvin was holding the town car door open for her. LaRue was on the other side about to get in. Apparently we were just going to leave the bodies where they’d fallen.

  “I’m sure. About the bodies?”

  “Nala’s going to take care of them,” Jo said with a smile. “They’re cat food.”

  17

  The cabana attendant spent a lot of time looking at my cleavage. I gestured with my right arm, the setting sun reflecting off the silver bands, but it barely broke his concentration. Finally, Ted coughed beside me and the man broke into a grin.

  “Strawberry-breeze and pineapple-slush,” he declared, offering us the tall frozen drinks from the tray.

  “Tell me again why this isn’t a daiquiri and that isn’t a piña colda?” I groused.

  “Because you can’t read a website.”

  “Oh I read it,” I assured Ted. The warm gulf waters in front of us sparkled with the last rays of fading sunlight, reaching a shoreline made of soft white sugar sand. Our sumptuous breakfast arrived at the door of our suite exactly on time. Afterwards, we made our way here, to the edge of paradise. In the afternoon, we swam, and once again had a meal brought to us without a moment’s hesitation. Now that the sun was nearly gone, a Mexican band would fill the air with hot music and hotter bodies dancing, wearing almost nothing at all. Tomorrow, I promised myself I would finally get to the snorkeling, Mayan ruins, and meditation classes the otherwise untruthful webpage promised.

  “It was there,” he told me for at least the hundredth time.

  “It wasn’t. Nothing mentioned they didn’t serve alcohol.”

  “It’s a yoga retreat. Besides, they found you coffee.”

  “True.” The Prana Del Mar retreat offered everything a pair of vacationers could want, except for coffee, alcohol, or red meat. While the last one didn’t bother Ted at all, the first one drove me nuts. After a very testy morning, the staff gave in and accommodated me. I suspected they were willing to offer much stronger chemical stimulates if I tipped well, but the coffee was enough. As for Ted, he didn’t need anything more than what they offered: a chance to be one who got the massage instead of the one who gave it.

  In front of us a blonde woman headed into the water to retrieve her son. The boy looked ten, maybe younger, and clearly had no desire to stop swimming just because it was almost dark. His mother stood firm, holding herself with an easy grace and smiling at the boy. My mind flitted back to Sue.

  “Do you think about her at all?”

  “Who?”

  “Your mom.”

  “Maybe a tiny bit,” he admitted. “I’m curious to know what she did with Vincent.”

  “You think he’s still alive?”

  “I doubt it, but there’s a chance.”

  “So you’ve thought about it?”

  He nodded. “Hope that’s okay with you.”

  I nodded back. The vacation filled me with a sense of calm; I didn’t feel pressed for sleep or anxious. I’d even left my gun back in the room without a second thought. I was so relaxed that when I felt the vampires walk up behind me, I didn’t even flip over.

  “How’s the vacation going?” Jo asked.

  “Perfect,” I told her with a smile.

  Thank you for reading!

  * * *

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  About the Author

  Rachel Graves has lived in a cursed town and taken far too many ghost tours. A brush with death left her with a burning desire to finally write the spooky, sexy mysteries that lived in her head and eventually led to her membership in the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.

  A voracious reader, Rachel consumes at least 70 books a year. If you need a recommendation, consider following her on Goodreads. Despite being an introvert, Rachel loves attending conventions like DragonCon and interacting with readers online. She often neglects her website (http://www.rachelgraves.com), counts down to Halloween all year long on Instagram, and would love to hear from you.

  Also by Rachel Graves

  Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective

  Dead Man’s Detective

  Hollywood Dead

  Missing, Suspected Dead

  The Death Witch Series

  Under a Blood Moon

  Fire in Her Blood

  Blood, Dirt, and Lies

  The Mermaid and the Murders (Monster Beach)

 

 

 


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