Dead Chance Page 9

  I paced around the small room, trying to come up with a plan. I needed to focus on finding Jason Lewis, but my mind kept going back to a set of sparkling blue eyes.

  The last time I'd looked at them, they'd been full of hurt. Hurt I'd put there.

  Perhaps romance just wasn't in the cards for me. My second time at bat and I was striking out. Roth was volatile, but his passion was like a lure. The more he whispered how much he wanted me, the more I wanted to be with him. And the less I trusted myself.

  He didn't know what I did or who I really was. He'd probably wondered why I why I had to go to Solas and how that aided Whisper but was too polite to ask.

  I wanted to clue him in, but telling anyone about the things going bump in the night seemed a one-way-ticket to an asylum. Pacing, I tried to think of a scenario where I didn't sound like a complete nutter. There wasn't one.

  I grabbed my phone's charger cable and plugged it in the wall. I looked to see if I'd missed a text or a call. Nothing. Maybe this was the end. Over before it began. The sad tale on repeat of my would-be-love-life.

  Why would he want you, Dianna? Max's voice taunted me.

  Doing some sit-ups I debated going out to search for Lewis, but it was a small town encircled by forest in the middle of hunting season. That sounded far more dangerous than walking down Sixth and Westwood at three in the morning. At least the gang members didn't shoot you hoping to snag a trophy. Or maybe some did. It honestly wouldn't surprise me.

  Max's throaty chuckle pushed memories of being helpless, weak at my core. I flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. The musky smell of Roth filled my nose still clinging to my body where he had touched. The warmth of him chased away the demons.

  I still ached to see Roth, even after the long trip to Solas.

  He should just get over it. I didn't choose between friends. Let alone a new boyfriend and my closest friend. I'd made a commitment and had to stick to it. Checking my phone, I willed it to ping with an alert for a text or an incoming phone call.

  It remained silent.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Solas was a town in the middle of a hilly forest. The mountains were farther away here than back in Fort Augustine. The darkness gave way to the piercing rays of the rising sun, as I got my stuff to head into town. Sharp pains in my stomach reminded me that I needed to eat.

  Whatever had changed me had created a hunger inside me to the point of pain. The longer between meals, the worse it got. It would start as the regular grumbles but quickly escalate to burning and stabbing pains. Since I didn't think letting a doctor examine me was a great idea, I just accepted it as part of the cost of living and the new normal. The hunger was always there, made worse after physical exertion.

  While driving on the local FM road, an older blue car stayed close behind me. Great. Local police. Since I wasn't speeding, I didn't get pulled over.

  Once in town, I quickly spotted Lucy's Fixings. On its sign, the image was a generic nineteen-fifties woman with a bow, next to the words, which were written done in a red scrawl. Hoping the place would at least have bacon, I parked in the small lot.

  The blue car pulled up and parked two spots down from me. A tall man got out. He was the most cowboy-esque man I'd seen since moving to Fort Augustine. He had on a worn black cowboy hat, a denim jacket over a blueish button-up top, blue jeans, and well-loved cowboy boots.

  He nodded at me while taking a toothpick out of his mouth. "Hello, ma'am."

  He walked towards me, and I decided to stick with the story of heading to my old hometown for the holidays.

  As he approached, I noticed his brown hair had sun-streaks through it, and long enough that it brushed his collar. His eyes were pale brown and crinkled up at the corners as he smiled.

  "Excuse me, ma'am, I am Deputy Casteele. Just checking up on visitors due to a local matter."

  I was betting the matter was one missing Jason Lewis. "Hello. I am Dianna Grant. Just stopping on my way back home for the holidays."

  He nodded, "Well, that is a shame."

  I cranked my head to look up at him as walked closer. Tall people are clueless about what literal pain in the necks they are. "A shame?"

  Casteele's smile grew broader, "Yes, Miss Grant. I reckon it's our loss you aren't staying here long." Pale brown eyes lingered at my waist.

  That was a first. Men usually stared at my chest. "Thank you. But it will be a short visit." I nodded in the direction of the diner. "So, is this the place to go to get a steak for breakfast?"

  He put the toothpick in his mouth, "Hmm," he said looking into my eyes. "Well, Lucy does make a mean vegan omelet. I still don't understand how when there isn't an egg in it."

  That sounded awful. "Is there another place around here to eat?"

  Casteele laughed with a loud ha noise. "Everything about you screams city. I figured you'd want that garbage."

  I grimaced as my stomach made a loud growling grumble.

  He said, "This place is alright, but it does cater to the non-meat, non-dairy, non-taste crowd. George's place is better. It's up the block." Holding out the crook of his arm he said, "I can walk you there."

  I shook my head, and said, "I'll walk with you if you are headed that way."

  "Most folks park here and walk to George's since the only other parking for it is on the street."

  I walked next to him. We got to the sidewalk and kept walking side by side. He was over a foot taller than me in my boots, so that put Deputy Casteele over six feet four inches. He slowed his stride, so I didn't have to jog to keep up. Considerate of him. But why?

  "I hope this isn't holding you up from work," I said.

  He kept looking around as he answered, "In a county this small, I'm on twenty-four seven." Glancing down at me with a disarming grin, he said, "It helps when such a pretty distraction comes along."

  Not certain that was a compliment, I said, "Hmm."

  He took off his hat and held the door open. It had a cartoon pig with the words, "The Slop" over it. The welcoming smells of bacon, steak, eggs, and coffee waifed out. "Here we are. If you don't mind the company, could I join you for breakfast? It's always nice to talk to those passing through."

  I shrugged, "Suit yourself."

  Shaking his head, "I'm betting you come from some Scandinavian stock."

  I said, "One side."

  The Slop was pretty full for a small town. All the booths were taken, leaving only the tables and chairs open. It wasn't an expensive looking establishment. Very basic, with the theme seeming to be wood paneling, carved wood, and wooden sculptures. Even the ceiling had wooden slats with hanging wood bladed fans. A bar, which was full of people eating their breakfast, was on one side, like an old fifties diner. In fact, it looked like that's what it had been, and someone had converted it. Someone who really loved pine and cedar.

  Casteele led me to a table as he said, "We seat ourselves." He pulled out a chair for me.

  I lifted up a hand, "I got it."

  He smiled patiently waiting for me to sit. After I sat down, he followed suit, putting his hat on the empty chair beside him.

  A man wide and tall enough he made Casteele seem small came up with two cups and a pitcher of coffee. The pitcher seemed like a child's toy in his dark hands.

  He said in a deep southern accent that made it sound like he had cotton in his mouth, "Mornin' Chance. Who's the lady?"

  "Hey, George. This is Miss Grant. She is passing through, and I am taking advantage and keeping her company."

  George said in a fake whisper, "Watch out Miss Grant. He gets around."

  Chance said, "Hey now, George, how about you get us two all meat and egg plates and stop telling tales?"

  With a snort, George nodded, and looked at me, "How do you want your eggs and steak?"

  "Scrambled, dry. Rare for the steak please," I said.

  George looked uncertain but shrugged.

  As he left, I hope he took me at my word. I hated getting gooey eggs and overcooked steaks just b
ecause I was female. As if I was somehow unable to know how I wanted my food cooked.

  I asked Deputy Casteele, "So your first name is Chance?"

  He nodded, "Yep. Most people just call me Deputy Casteele around here though. But George and I served together." He winked and said, "But please feel free to call me Chance."

  "Okay, Chance, so why are you having breakfast with me?"

  He poured us both coffee and gave me the first cup. He said, "Well, I ran your plates. You live in Fort Augustine. And there is a wanted man that might be coming here from there."

  I asked, "The guy wanted for the doctor's murder?"

  He nodded, "Yeah. So what do you know about him?"

  I shrugged, "That he is wanted for questioning in the death. The news said he is a suspect. Beyond that, not much."

  He narrowed his eyes, "I know I'm pretty, but I'm deeply hurt you think I'm dumb enough to swallow that load of manure. Excuse my French."

  I said, "I'm an accountant." I stayed silent for a moment to let that sink in. "I hope Lewis is stopped."

  "Well, that rings true." He sighed, "I thought maybe you were a news hound come to investigate Lewis' hometown." He took some sips of coffee.

  I took a sip of the coffee, pleased to find that it wasn't burnt.

  Chance said, "Where are you headed to then?"

  "I grew up in Albert Springs."

  He sighed, "I guess you check out." Taking a long drink, he said, "I'm a little disappointed."

  "How so?"

  "Albert Springs is close enough I know St. Agnes school. That makes you Catholic."

  "Ah, no. Lutheran. I went to Lukes."

  Albert Springs was small and predominantly Catholic. There were two elementary schools, one middle school, and one high school if you didn't choose St. Agnes for your children. Lukes, or Luke High School, was a ninth grade through twelfth-grade public high school. The only other school was the Catholic kindergarten through twelfth grade at St. Agnes.

  The grin was back, "Now that is some good news."

  George was back with two large oval plates. The plates were full of bacon, sausage patties, steaks, and eggs. He said, "Careful, the plates are hot."

  Casteele's steak was medium rare, and his eggs were over easy. As we ate in silence, he kept looking around.

  I didn't notice at first, because I scanned the crowd too. Although, I was searching for Lewis' sister, Joan.

  "So," he said pushing away his plate. "If you aren't poking around about Lewis, who exactly are you looking for?"

  "What do you mean," I asked.

  "Well, you may think I'm as thick as the soles of your boots, but I know what you're doing." Taking a sip of coffee, he said, "Why don't you tell me why you are really here. We can help each other out."

  Eating with the local law enforcement had been a bad idea. I'd hoped he'd want to chat about townies. However, Deputy Chance Casteele was far too quick for my liking.

  "Well, honestly, after you mentioned the Lewis thing, I wondered who knows him here. Who he is related to. Just curiosity."

  Chance stared hard into my eyes for a moment, before he shook his head. He kept sipping his coffee. "How long do you expect to be in town?"

  "Just resting. So, hopefully, I'll leave tonight or tomorrow morning," I said.

  "Storms coming in tonight," he said. He picked back up his toothpick and played with it in one hand.

  I looked out the windows and saw the clear sky. It was crisp outside, but it didn't feel like snow coming. "You think," I asked.

  He nodded. "I have an instinct about these things, and my gut says a nasty storm is coming." Placing his elbows on the table, he leaned his tall frame over to my side of the table, "Any hope it won't?"

  Raising an eyebrow at him, I said, "I have no idea."

  But my stomach ached, and it wasn't from hunger. It was from wondering what he knew. Not about Lewis necessarily but about the darkness. His expression was far too knowing.

  Putting the toothpick back in his mouth, he said, "I hope it doesn't." He stood up, putting bills on the table, "Cleanup is always a bitch."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Small towns are always a different creature at night. Compared to the city, they are as quiet as the grave. Especially so on school nights. Tomorrow was Monday, so the town was silent.

  Solas reminded me a lot of Albert Springs. The stillness after dark, the closeness to the forest and the hills. People in small towns are just like people anywhere. They stick to patterns. Most of the folks had or were eating dinner. Cars were few. So, a stranger nosing around was conspicuous.

  So, to avoid all the questions, I'd brought along some fancy binoculars and was looking at Joan Lewis' house from a hill right next to a small lake. Joan lived on the outskirts of town in a home that had once been her parents.

  It was in American Foursquare Style with the typical two and a half stories. It looked genuine, which dated the house from between the late eighteen hundreds up to the nineteen thirties. The only reason I knew any of that was because it had been the style of the home of one of my closest childhood friends, Sara.

  Her family's house had been painted white over time. Some of the boards had an olive green peeking out from peeling paint. I hadn't visited Albert Springs in years, let alone see who owned the house now. After Sara and everyone had died, most of their family members avoided me. It was mutual.

  Joan's house was dark. I didn't see a car in the driveway, and no one had opened the detached garage in the past two hours.

  Sara bumped her shoulder into mine. I tried to block it out, but it started to pick at the back of my brain. Gritting my teeth, I fought the shift.

  Unfortunately, the tender caress of the past shifted my perception, and suddenly I sat on the grass next to Lake Clare with Sara watching the sun start to set.

  Sara's dark hair and toffee-colored skin glowed a copper tone under the orange light. She laughed joyously at the beauty of the lake afire.

  My lips pulled upward as I chuckled. Resisting Sara's laugh or dimples was impossible.

  "This is going to be the best night ever," she declared raising her arms.

  A thought nagged at me. I had to warn Sara about something important.

  Her dark eyes seemed amber in the dying light. She said, "I hope you find happiness, Dianna." She turned away to head into the house.

  Dark shadows wrapped like vines around it. Their paper-like skin casting gray snow-like-debris into the air.

  Inside the house lurked death.

  I reached for her arm, to stop her. "Sara, no!"

  Everything shifted, as colors ran like melting crayons. A metallic odor filled the air before the room came into focus. It was the hallway from the kitchen to the living room.

  I didn't want to see it again, but my gaze fell, drawn like a magnet to her.

  Sara looked up at me with the light gone from her unmoving eyes. Her face had tiny spatters of blood on it.

  I reached down to check her pulse. This couldn't be happening. Not to Sara. "Sara," I whispered.

  A grating chuckle sounded behind me, like metal gears grinding hard together.

  I turned around. Behind me now held a barely lit hallway with fish wallpaper and hardwood floors that seemed infinite. I looked back at Sara, but she was gone. A large pool of blood where she once lay stained the floors. I had to escape.

  The same hallway stretched out behind as in front with a shut door at the end.

  The shrieking, scrapping chuckle sounded again. The smell of rotting meat filled the long corridor.

  I started running. Away from the sound. The smells. The darkness.

  Shadows filled the hallway; passageways for the Shadowed Man.

  Pushing my body to the limits I ran so hard my chest started to hurt and tighten.

  "Do not run, unchild," hissed the voice close behind me.

  The door remained far away as my legs kept pumping.

  The feeling of something wrapping around my throat stopped the scr
eam threatening to burst forth. I fell as dark talon tipped hands, with their horrible out of proportion fingers curled around my legs.

  Trying to cry out, the tentacle at my throat stopped me.

  "Join and feast," the thing whispered at me.

  My vision started to go gray as the band around my throat tightened. Desperate, my fingernails raked the sticky paper vine. The pressure lessened and I took in a deep breath.

  I sat in my car gasping. There was a man in the backseat.

  He moved his hands away from my throat howling. I'd ripped through his leather gloves and flesh.

  I pushed open the car door and heard it creak in protest.

  Jason Lewis moved faster than humanly possible and lunged out of the back seat at me. His eyes seemed to have a greenish glow to them, the way that cats do after dark. Hissing, his mouth opened exposing two impossibly long canines.

  I dodged his clumsy rush, and side-stepped while turning to face to his new position. Not waiting for him to regroup, I slightly turned my pivot leg while my other leg extended. The roundhouse kick knocked the wind out of him but didn't stop him.

  He reached out to grab my leg, almost catching it. Since he didn't, it put him in a perfect position for another kick. This time one leg held firm and straight while the other shot out up and then out. The impact from the kick pushed him back and to the ground. He landed on the rocks and grass and pushed himself up with his hands and knees.

  Not willing to give him another chance to murder me, I ran up and jumped in the air. One of my legs came up, knee almost touching my nose. I brought the leg down as hard as I could, holding nothing back.

  Lewis collapsed to the ground, silent.

  My breath steadied.

  He still wore the same clothes as before.

  "What the fuck, Lewis?" Anger bit at my nerves. "You killed one person, and it gave you a taste for it?" Worried I'd killed him, I moved to check his pulse.

  Lewis pushed himself up and spat out grass. Blood came out of his nose, dripping on his shirt.

  "The choice is no longer mine!" His voice broke as he said, "I never would hurt Danny. But he smelled so good." He pushed himself to his heels, wrapping his arms around his knees while he wept. "He smelled so good."