Undone: The Complete Duology, page 4
Taking a quiet, deep breath, I steeled my resolve and prepared to end whatever monstrous creature lurked in the shop.
Carefully, I inched around in my spot tucked in the corner behind the case, preparing to launch to my feet if the creature attacked.
Instead, I caught the top of a familiar cowboy hat as the person walked away.
Officer Brewer?
I dropped my bloody hand to my lap, fear melding into annoyance. What the hell was he doing around here? He had no jurisdiction here. No one would want him here.
He didn’t understand Thorn Tree. It would be best for everyone, including himself, if he just left.
But no. Officer Friendly, here, had to investigate some ruckus he’d heard, no doubt. I was sure the sounds of my abuse against the display case had carried outside the little shop, especially since there was a giant hole in the wall from my reno job.
I should be worried about my blood on the shattered case and on the floor, but I already knew no one was going to call in the experts. Sheriff Ditka would write up the report and the Reverend would address our collective sins on Sunday. That was how we did things here.
Officer Brewer sauntered through the labyrinthine rows. As he passed by a seven-foot teak headboard, a flapping paper across the space caught my eye. The sign was attached to a corner curio cabinet, and I squinted in the dim light to read the large letters written in marker.
RARE.
He hadn’t meant the cabinet. My ring was in there. I could sense it.
I narrowed my eyes at the back of Officer Brewer as I peered over the shattered case.
Keep walking.
He halted, and I sank down.
I wasn’t sure what would happen if he caught me. He didn’t have any say here in Thorn Tree, but then he would know that I was involved in something. Even if he couldn’t directly connect my involvement here to the disappearance of Bobby, he would have cause to keep a closer watch over me.
I didn’t want to draw any of his attention. At least, not in that way.
Shoving down any irrelevant thoughts, I focused on timing my next move. He worked his way past the clawfoot tub, then fingered the authentic sarapes on the wall above the tub before turning his attention to the enormous wardrobe that served as a divider between this room and the adjacent one.
He opened one door and peeked in, then shut the cabinet.
With excruciating slowness, he stepped around the wardrobe and headboard, disappearing out of sight. I abandoned my flashlight and scurried, low to the ground, to hide behind a gargoyle statue that must have come off an actual cathedral.
Lou was a king in his world. Too bad he was a fucknut in mine.
While Officer Brewer was still out of sight, I dropped my belly and crawled along the floor that hadn’t been properly swept or mopped in ages, snaking behind a stack of salvaged kitchen cabinets and countertop awaiting their next life and slithering behind a stained-glass front door. With my knees to my chest, I peered out.
Judging from soft noises and shifting shadows, Officer Brewer was still taking his tour through the next room.
The curio cabinet with the sign stood only a few feet away from me. A familiar velvet ring box sat on one of the shelves. I unfolded myself out the other side of the front door and with a shaking arm, yanked open the curio. My teeth chattered as I snapped up the man-in-the-moon ring, closing the jewelry box, and turned to make for the back door.
Several problems popped up at once.
If I used the back door, Officer Brewer would surely see me from the other room. There wasn’t much standing between him and that door. He only couldn’t see me standing out in the open thanks to an interior wall that had once divided the living room from the dining room, back when this building had been someone’s home.
I could hide out until he gave up and left, but that posed its own risk at being discovered in the process.
On top of that, my backpack was still behind the barn doors across the room. I wasn’t sure anyone could pin that bag on me, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving any of my possessions behind.
I looked down at the ring, contemplating what to do with it. I had brought the backpack to transport the ring back to my house—it was far too important to just shove it in my pocket—but that plan had gone out the window.
Pocket it is.
I worked the box into my front pants pocket, then surveyed my escape route.
Plucking a yellow Faberge egg from inside a nearby china cabinet, I positioned myself just behind the wardrobe and headboard partition. Silently, I counted to three, then I chucked the egg across the room into the shattered display case.
The soft scraping noises from the other room halted. His heavy footsteps charged down the narrow aisle that led back into this room. As he did, I inched around the other side, missing him by seconds. From my spot between the door and the case, modestly sheltered by the big furniture pieces, I could see him bent over the display case, examining the contents and destruction. He plucked up the decorative egg and held it up, scrutinizing it.
Now his fingerprints were all over it. Bad move in a normal place. Wouldn’t matter at all in Thorn Tree.
I just had to get him away from the case long enough for me to grab my backpack which was just feet from him, barely concealed from sight.
Thankfully he hadn’t spotted my flashlight yet either. Not that it really mattered anymore. I’d given away that someone was still here. Unless he intended to dust for prints, I just had to get out of here.
And if he did, well, I was already screwed then.
It didn’t matter. I only had to stay under the radar for three more weeks.
Somehow, in this town, that would be the easiest and hardest thing I’d ever done.
I picked up a vase from a table against the near wall, then ducked around the wardrobe and flung the ceramic piece straight at a collection of old metal signs on the far wall. They clattered and swung as I slunk back out of sight.
Officer Brewer swung around. I caught a glimpse of his raised gun.
Oh, shit.
Fuck the backpack and flashlight. The fun and games were over.
I turned and bolted for the open back door. If he saw me, would he shoot, thinking I was an escaping perp?
I was an escaping perp.
I cut down the alley, in the opposite direction I had come in, and I didn’t stop running until I was back on the street. As I hurried towards home, I touched the shape of the ring box in my pocket.
Excitement fluttered through me. It hadn’t come easily, but I had the first item on my list. The Moon.
Only two more elements to go.
Despite my eagerness to find them, something told me they were going to be much more difficult.
6
MAC
I woke with a start to my phone ringing on the end table next to my bed. My phone hadn’t dialed out anywhere since I’d arrived.
As I tried to reach for it, my back locked, and I had to ease myself over onto my side like I’d been mummified for the last few centuries. I hadn’t been in a physical altercation at the vintage store last night, but my body seemed to think I had.
The adrenaline had been intense. Life in small towns didn’t often put law enforcement directly in the action and certainly not so unexpectedly. I never had been before. My entire career, short as it was so far, had involved mostly deterring teenagers from harassing cattle or wrestling the town drunk back home when he tried to piss in a neighbor’s rose bushes.
Last night was entirely different. I’d been strolling around town, trying to get a lay of the land and let my stomach process the enormous meal Mrs. Woolworth had provided here at Honey and Hive; it paid to be the only guest, I supposed.
I’d heard banging and glass shattering, and followed the noise to Lou’s Restore and More. I hadn’t been able to see through the windows, but the back door had been unlocked. Since I had my pistol on me out of habit, I’d crept inside to investigate.
Standing in a tiny room with a perp just out of sight, I’d taken back all my complaints about how boring life in small towns had been. I’d take a drunk teen taunting a cow any day over the fear of walking into an encounter like that in the shop, with the perp staying a step ahead of me.
I’d never caught sight of the perp, and if I believed in such things, I could have been convinced I’d come up against a ghost instead. The perp had fled out the door, but I’d only heard them.
Lifting the phone, I squinted through sleep and my foggy brain at the screen.
My stomach sank.
I knew this conversation was coming, but I’d managed to convince myself he wouldn’t bother me as long as I didn’t cause too much mayhem in his town.
Wrong. I was wrong.
I answered the call. “Hello, sheriff.”
“Mac,” Sheriff Ditka said, sounding not the least bit amused to be speaking to me, “have you found your brother yet?”
“No, sir,” I said, a bit too cheeky for my own good. “Only been here for a day or so. Just getting to know the town.”
“I shouldn’t have let him come back. I knew something bad would happen.” He sounded like he was speaking more to himself than me.
“Then why did you?” I sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a bit lighter with the chance to jab at the sheriff a little. It wasn’t often he put himself in the line of fire.
He grunted.
“The things a man won’t do for a little pussy, right?” I hoped he could hear my grin through the phone.
He choked into the line, either on his drink or his spit.
One night, Robert had slipped up and confessed that his mother was the sheriff’s mistress, had been for years. The entire town knew, but no one spoke of it—including the sheriff’s wife. The arrangement afforded Robert certain privileges in Thorn Tree.
I didn’t quite understand what all those privileges entailed, but I had a feeling I was going to find out before this investigation was over. The longer I stayed in this town, the more the façade was beginning to crumble. I just wasn’t sure what lay underneath yet.
Whatever special treatment my brother received in Thorn Tree, it hadn’t saved him from becoming a missing person.
“Just don’t stir up any further issues,” Sheriff Ditka said. “I can only keep the good Reverend out of your way for so long. Once your time is up—”
“Once it’s up, it’s up. I got it.”
When I’d asked the sheriff to let me investigate my brother’s disappearance, he’d mentioned he would have to run it by the local Reverend. Not the mayor, not anyone else. Just the Reverend, as if he made all final decisions for the town. I’d found it a bit strange then, and I still did now too.
“What’s he gonna do anyway?” I pressed, despite myself. “Throw holy water at me? It only burns for a few minutes.”
“You know how these towns are. Everyone follows what the Reverend says.”
My town certainly had a large religious segment of the population, but I was no longer sure that was the same as how Thorn Tree operated. Our pastor mainly just chastised the inebriated and girls with short skirts. He hardly had a say in who came into town on business or pleasure. I’d never heard our sheriff deferring to him, either.
“Well, not everyone follows your Reverend,” I said. “Amelia Young and her coven sisters seem to have their own opinions.”
I really shouldn’t be allowed unsupervised before coffee.
The sheriff scoffed. “It’s a phase. Look, maybe out there, girls like Amelia and her friends have convictions but here in Thorn Tree, it’s different.”
“I doubt it,” I said.
“They still come to church, twice a week.”
I stalled, intrigued by that revelation. I had considered Amelia standard Wiccan fair. Perhaps I really didn’t understand Thorn Tree, after all.
“So that’s the deal then? They can go through the phases as long as they still attend church?”
“Better to lead the lamb.”
“You mean horse?”
“No.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“What about that Grace girl?” I asked, changing the topic. “What’s her story?”
The sheriff didn’t reply. I checked the phone to make sure the call was still connected; it was.
I had stumbled upon a sore topic, it seemed. And not for the first time. Amelia had bristled at the mention of the girl on the outskirts of town too.
“Just stay away from Grace Miller,” he said at length. “She’s got nothing to do with anything.”
“Her fan club is staggering.”
“I’m not joking, Mac. You caught sniffing around Grace, and I’ll escort you out of my town personally. You want to find your brother? Stay the fuck away from Grace.”
Well, he’d sure told me.
“Duly noted, sheriff,” I said, as pleasant as sunshine and rainbows. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“Don’t piss off the Reverend, and we’re good.”
With that, he hung up.
I stared at the phone. On whim, I tried calling a number outside Thorn Tree. Then another. Each attempt dropped.
Seemed I was limited to calls inside the town.
I got up and dressed. The room here at Honey and Hive was done up in yellow: big yellow flowers on the wallpaper, a yellow chair in the corner, and even yellow bath towels. Sunflowers grew right outside one window.
Thorn Tree didn’t have a single hotel, and this bed-and-breakfast was the only accommodation. Mrs. Woolworth lived on the premises and didn’t have any staff to help her out. It wasn’t needed, she said. She took in the occasional guest visiting for Lou’s, and to prevent confusion for out of towners, she had turned her home into an official B&B. She only had two rooms available.
Staying here was still better than my only other option: bunking at Roberta’s house.
The idea made me cold.
I was supposed to go to the diner this morning and talk to Amelia’s coven sister, Bethany, but the sheriff had set a small fire into a blaze.
I was going to be a very bad guest and visit Grace Miller instead.
As much as I’d wanted to stop by her little farmhouse again, I hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason. Besides, it had only been one day. I needed to pace myself before I came off as a creep.
I wanted to see her again, though. Wanted to talk to her, person to person, not an interrogation.
I wanted to see how long it would take to crack those walls.
Now I had a good enough excuse to return to her house, even if it wasn’t the real reason. Whether she bought my story or not didn’t even matter.
This town was hiding something, and while I was sure it had little to do with the disappearance of my brother, it was a mystery too intriguing not to poke.
And, somehow, it all centered on Grace.
What were they hiding?
7
MAC
Grace’s house was significantly older than I had realized on the first visit. The soffit of the roof was drooping or cracked in places. The gutters had rusted, and one side was broken off. The blue paint had long faded.
As I walked up to the front door, I expected Grace to pop out with a scowl. She seemed the type who hovered around her windows, prepared to strike at visitors like a coiled snake.
Instead, I knocked, and waited, then waited some more. After the second knock, she shouted from somewhere inside the house: “Hold on a goddamn minute!”
I grinned and rolled my shoulders, loosening the last of the knots from last night’s adventure.
The door yanked open, and she glowered up at me. The fire in her eyes did unspeakable things to me, which probably indicated something I should discuss with a therapist.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said, then realized I’d forgotten my hat at the Honey and Hive.
Oh, well. Grace hadn’t seemed impressed with it last time, anyway.
And, I had to admit, this entire visit was all about seeing how far I could get with the cold mistress of Thorn Tree.
“You must be confused,” she said, deadpan. “You already interviewed this side of town. Git.”
She gave a little wave of her fingers, shooing me along.
I laughed, and her scowl deepened.
“There seems to be a turn of events,” I said.
That wasn’t entirely accurate. The break-in had nothing to do with the reason I was in town, annoying the locals, but I could tie them together if I tried hard enough.
“How unfortunate.” She started to close the door, but I blocked it with my foot.
Rage darkened her features, then she subdued it. “What do you want, Officer Brewer?”
“Lou’s Restore and More was burglarized last night.”
“I’ve heard nothing about it.” She shot me a tight smile. “I don’t really go into town often.”
That seemed like the understatement of this decade, at least.
“Just stay home with your cat, eh?”
She rolled her eyes up to stare at me, unamused. “Do you have a reason to be here, officer? Got a warrant? See if I stole a sink faucet from a dilapidated trailer in Alabama?”
“No warrant,” I said, then deliberately leaned against a column holding up the sagging porch roof. “Just handcuffs.”
Her eyes sparked with mischief. “Bed straps are far more comfortable.”
“Is that so, now?”
She ran her gaze down me, a bit like a feline herself, then her expression hardened. “Go away.”
“I can’t,” I said, and there was more truth to my words than I had intended.
She gave me a questioning look but said nothing.
“My brother. I can’t leave without my brother.” The words tore a hole in my chest, but I filled it back in with all the denial and frustration I kept piled up in the back of my mind.
“Little Bobby Bruno is your…brother?”
She sounded confused.
“Even now when he’s not so little, yes.”
She leaned back, straightening taller. “You’re not from Thorn Tree.”
