by Chase Connor
She flipped him off.
“No wonder everyone hates you.” He snarled, then looked at me. “Robert, take a walk with me.”
Sheriff Dennard turned on his heels and headed towards the backdoor. I glanced at Oma and Lucas, both of them looking concerned, but I rose from my seat and followed Sheriff Dennard to the backdoor. He opened the door and eased down the steps—Oma wasn’t wrong, he was a larger man, though that was no reason to be mean to him—and I followed after, a little more athletic in my descent. Together, we watched the rest of the Sheriff’s office employees disperse, giving half-hearted waves and salutes at us as they vacated Oma’s backyard. Finally, once we were alone—but not walking, obviously—Sheriff Dennard turned to me.
“Look,” He said, “this lady that died in your grandma’ yard had obviously been burned all to hell.”
I swallowed hard, my eye twitching slightly as I looked at the Sheriff in his very scary uniform and scarier handcuffs and absolutely terrifying weapons belt. Was he about to arrest me?
“I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t drug related.” He continued, making the knot in my stomach loosen slightly. “These damn meth labs are blowing up all the damn time.”
“Oma said something about that.” I gave a neutral response.
“Well, she was right about something. Imagine that.” He rolled his eyes. “Now, I ain’t seen or heard nothin’ around here about a meth lab. We don’t have much of a problem in Point Worth. Yet. But it’s always inevitable, isn’t it? Those types of things tend to find their way into every small town eventually. Even idyllic ones like Point Worth.”
Idyllic? I was going to keep my opinions to myself as to avoid getting pretty new bracelets put on me.
“But, regardless of the hate I have for your grandmother,” He continued, “I’m glad she has you and Lucas around. When something like this happens, it just keeps on happening. If the wrong sort is movin’ into Point Worth, we need to start watching out for each other. You make sure to watch for any strange people around your grandma’s property, Robert.”
“Of course.” I nodded.
I wanted to tell the Sheriff that only a crazy person would attempt to cross Oma. She did shoot a shotgun at teenagers, after all. Of course, bringing that up to the Sheriff was probably a poor choice, so I just kept my answers short when needed and my mouth shut otherwise.
“You see anything else odd and you call me right away.” He gave me a stern look, his fingers hooking into the belt below his pudge. “If we got the druggies movin’ in, I want to get on top of it and get ‘em out of here just as quick as they came. They can go be Toledo’s or Cincinnati’s problem. Or, add to their problem, I guess.”
“Yessir.”
“You grew up around here, didn’t you?” He asked suddenly.
“Um, yeah.” I nodded. “In this house. I lived here until I was sixteen.”
“You took off a while back, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“Now you’re back.”
“Yessir.”
“You find all the fame and fortune you needed?” He gave me a knowing look.
Sheriff Dennard wasn’t nearly as ignorant as Oma had portrayed him to be or as simple as his “Good Ole Boy” persona painted him. Eyeing Sheriff Dennard for a moment, I didn’t know how much I wanted to get into my other life with him.
“The illusion is fleeting.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m sure you’re glad to be back.”
“Yessir.”
“Would you, uh…” He was reaching into his pocket for his notepad again, then flipping to find a blank page.
“Yeah.” I shook my head, trying to affect an affable personality. “Sure. Of course.”
“My wife,” He cleared his throat, “she loves your movies, see?”
“Of course.” I shook my head as though this was the most common thing to happen to me recently. Of course, being recognized as Jacob Michaels was the most common thing that had happened to me recently. “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Sarah Jean.” He smiled broadly as I wrote out a little note and signed “Jacob Michaels” on a blank page of his pad. “We went and saw one of your concerts down in Chicago…gosh, three years ago, I think it was.”
I nodded, still smiling as I handed his notepad back to him. That was the thing about Midwesterners. Everything was “down there”—even if “down there” happened to be in a western direction.
“Yeah.” I agreed, as though I remembered the show he was talking about in his previous statement. “It was a great show; great crowd, of course.”
Of course, I didn’t remember playing Chicago three years prior since I had played Chicago at least two dozen times throughout my music career. However, it was always best, in my experience, to just go along with the things people said about seeing a movie or show.
“Down there at Millennium Park.” He continued to smile as he inspected the autograph I had provided. “Hate Chicago. Too busy, crowded, loud—but it was a good show, Robert. Or should I say ‘Jacob’?”
He chuckled at his cleverness.
“Rob’s fine,” I repeated my mantra.
“You’ve lost some weight, haven’t ya’?”
“Yeah,” I said automatically. “But Oma’s helping me put it back on.”
“Well,” He reached out to slap me on the shoulder, “that’s what grandmas are for, right? Even hateful, old, mean ones like yours, I suppose.”
“Yessir.” I smiled jovially, though I was not amused.
“Would you mind if…” He was reaching for his phone.
“Sure.” I was flustered but managed to keep smiling. “How else will Sarah Jean believe you, right?”
He laughed at that. Sheriff Dennard moved into my personal space, put his head next to mine, then snapped a selfie of the two of us smiling into the camera. Of course, I probably still had bedhead, my hair wasn’t styled, I was without my trademark beard…maybe Sarah Jean wouldn’t believe he had met Jacob Michaels, regardless of the picture and autograph.
“Well, I thank you, Rob.” He slid his phone back into his pocket after inspecting the picture quickly. “Sarah Jean will be beside herself.”
“I’m sure.” I smiled. “I’m glad I could get you husband points.”
He laughed at that and slapped me on the shoulder again.
“All right.” He made a move to walk away. “But you don’t forget to let me know if you see anything else weird, ya’ hear?”
“Of course,” I replied. “If any more naked people stumble into the yard, you’ll be the first to know after us.”
I gave him a jaunty salute, which made him laugh all the way across the backyard and around the side of Oma’s house. As soon as he was out of view, I let the smile disappear from my face and slogged back up the stairs into Oma’s kitchen. She was at the window over the sink with Lucas, having just watched the entire display between myself and Sheriff Dennard in the backyard.
“Surprised the tubbly bastard didn’t ask for one of your old t-shirts.” Oma snorted as soon as I was inside. “Of all the unprofessional things!”
Lucas was merely smiling at me.
“Do you think him or his wife will tell people I’m here?” I asked.
“I would be shocked to shit if they didn’t,” Oma grumbled. “Wesley ain’t got a lick of propriety, and Sarah Jean finds out and tells everyone’s business. She probably figures out whodunit before Wesley can even begin to investigate. Hell, she probably knows a crime’s being committed as it’s happenin’.”
Lucas laughed again.
“She is…I guess…interested in other people’s affairs.” He agreed.
“She’s fuckin’ nosy is what she is.” Oma slapped at his arm.
“Tomato, tomahto.” He chuckled at her before turning to look at me. “Babe, I’ve got to get down to the hardware store. Grandpa understood me having to stay here while the Sheriff was around, but…”
I waved him off. “It’s okay. I
understand.”
Lucas gave me a soft smile and sauntered over, ignoring the fact that Oma was still in the room. Before I could stop him, my face was in his hands, and he was kissing me gently on the lips. Oma gave a wolf-whistle—appropriate more than she knew—as she headed back to the table. Lucas pulled back from the kiss with a smile, his eyes staring into mine.
“Why don’t you come by the house later?” He grinned evilly since his back was to Oma. “I’ll make us dinner.”
“Vegetarian?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lucky I like you.”
“Like?” He teased.
“Go to work.” I spun him gently and swatted his pajama pants covered ass. “I’ll come to your house later.”
Oma wolf-whistled again.
“Stuff it, old woman.” I snarled.
Lucas cackled before giving me a wink. Then he was gone. And Oma and I were alone in the kitchen. I stood there as Oma started sipping her cup of coffee again. Once I was confident that enough time had passed for Lucas to have gotten into his truck and pulled away, I went and sat down across from Oma. She eyed me knowingly as I grabbed my coffee cup.
“That your work out there?” She asked, calmly sipping her now, probably cold, coffee.
“Perhaps,” I replied calmly. “Unless you were out wandering around last night or early this morning.”
“Ernst told me last night when I caught him creeping around my room.” She answered the obvious question. “So…ya’ heard some weird noise and thought you’d go investigate like some teenager with big tits in a horror movie? That seem as dumb now as it should?”
“Did he tell you about the wolves?” I ignored her.
“He mentioned ‘em.”
“It wasn’t a full moon last night.”
“No.” She gave a single nod. “It wasn’t.”
“I’m guessing that maybe werewolves are forced to turn into wolves at the full moon, but can—or at least some can—turn when they want. That about sum that up?”
“Just about.”
“After my little incident with Andrew, don’t you think that would have been good information for me to have?” I frowned.
“Why?” She snorted. “Andrew ain’t one of them. He ain’t nearly powerful enough to be changin’ his skin any ole damn time the mood strikes him.”
“Regardless.” I tried not to be dazed by this conversation I was having with my grandmother in her more than ordinary country kitchen. “It would be good to have told me, hey, since you know there are werewolves now, maybe you should know that you don’t just have to worry about the full moon. Especially since Point Worth seems to be teeming with them, Oma.”
“Every damn time I turn around, you’re scolding me for something.” She sighed.
“Rightfully so,” I stated though I couldn’t put any force behind the words. “This is twice I could have been clawed or chewed up by a werewolf—wolves—because you decided to keep secrets, Oma.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Some werewolves can change any damn time they please. Happy?”
“I guess.”
“But I didn’t know we had any of them around here.” She waggled her head. “Usually they have to belong to a pack and have a pretty damn powerful Pack Alpha to have that kind of power, and—”
“Pack?” I stopped her. “Pack Alpha?”
“Well, yes. Wolves have packs and alphas so why wouldn’t werewolves?”
“Ya’ know,” I shrugged, “I’ll give you that one. Where’d Lena disappear off to?”
Oma looked around, as though Lena’s whereabouts hadn’t even crossed her mind until I brought her up.
“Lena?” She hollered.
Without so much as a sound, a bright light, a puff of smoke, or anything, Lena was walking out from underneath the table next to Oma. Seeing little humanoid creatures—Kobolds—appear and disappear on a whim would never be something to which I wasn’t sure I could become accustomed. However, I did my best not to jump at the sudden sight of her or do anything that might make her think that I was hostile. I didn’t even have Ernst’s full trust yet—though he had been willing to take a mauling for me the previous night.
“Yes, ma’am?” Lena asked, her eyes darting to me for a moment.
Her voice was like Ernst’s, barely distinguishable from his squeaky-toy-like voice. Maybe it was a little more feminine, but it was pretty close to the same. Even Lena’s physical appearance was strikingly similar to Ernst’s. For a second, I wondered if Ernst wasn’t just somewhere with a trunk full of disguises, waiting to make an appearance in various parts of the house. However, Ernst soon followed Lena out from under the table, though he exited on my side of the table. I did jump when he appeared, only because I hadn’t expected him. Ernst flinched and went to step away.
“Sorry, Ernst.” I reached down to touch his shoulder. “You just startled me.”
He looked up at me then and smiled widely, grateful that I hadn’t been preparing to do something violent. His little pointy ears wriggled slightly, and I suddenly realized that Lena’s ears were a bit more rounded at the top. Her eyes were somewhat more almond-shaped. I’d have to pay attention to tell them apart physically, but it wasn’t impossible.
“It’s awight, sir.” He beamed.
I patted his shoulder again and smiled at him before turning my attention to Oma and Lena.
“There y’all are.” Oma sighed. “Thought you’d have slithered out as soon as everyone was gone.”
“He’s still here.” Lena whisper-hissed at Oma, one of her tiny little fingers jabbing in my direction in what she probably thought was a discreet manner.
“Well, he’s gonna be around for a while, so you may as well get used to coming out with him in the room,” Oma spoke down to Lena. “He ain’t gonna hurt you none.”
“I heard what you done to Ernst.” Lena squinted at me.
“It was an accident,” I said, referring to accidentally blasting Ernst into the bathroom with my finger rays. “I didn’t even know I could do that.”
“Well, don’ go jabbin’ yer fingers at me!” She squeaked.
Oma chuckled. I wanted to giggle but didn’t think it would be appropriate. Instead, I gave her a grave look and nodded. Of course, given what had happened the night before, the fact that the Sheriff’s department had been in the backyard all morning…levity would not have been entirely appropriate.
“I won’t, Lena,” I said. “I promise.”
She harrumphed, which was extremely adorable. Ernst looked up at me and winked, sharing an aside about Lena’s prickly nature. I winked back and smiled.
“Lena,” I asked, “did you see where that woman came from this morning before I told you to hide?”
“Nosir.” She stated sharply.
“You don’t know which direction she walked into the yard from?” I asked again. “You didn’t see her wander out of the woods or from around the house or anything?”
“Nosir.” She reiterated haughtily. “I ran ousside when I heard the missus scream bloody mur’er and that woman was stumblin’ up towards the house all nekkid-like.”
“Oh.”
“I think she was already stumblin’ around the yard when I walked down the steps, Robbie.” Oma shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly payin’ attention when I stepped out of the house. I think when I got to the bottom of the steps, I looked up and here she comes, all naked and burnt up.”
Sighing, I patted Ernst on the shoulder again and stood. He didn’t jump at me rising to my feet, but Lena stepped closer to Oma, as though she needed a shield from my laser fingers.
“Last night, I was attacked by three werewolves in the backyard,” I said, just to hear myself say it aloud. “And I blasted them with a fireball I conjured up out of my freaking hand. I burnt one of them pretty good. Then this person wanders up in the yard covered in burns.”
Oma looked at me, her eyebrows raised.
“Don’t think the Paxil would have helpe
d in this situation.”
Oma rolled her eyes.
“Let’s face it.” I shrugged. “I killed a woman.”
Blasé is my middle name.
“We don’t know that,” Oma grunted.
“We don’t not know that.”
“She probably had her meth lab blow up.”
“On the same morning I roasted wolf people?”
“Werewolves.”
“Semantics. The coincidence is unsettling, Oma.”
“Oh, just settle down.” Oma raised and lowered her hands, urging me to sit.
I didn’t obey. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked down at her stubbornly, waiting for whatever it was she had to say.
“Look,” Oma sighed, “maybe you tossed around a little fire to save yours and Ernst’s asses. That’s fair play in any book—even the law book. But we don’t know who that naked lady is, let alone if she is a werewolf. And if it was her, well, she got what was comin’ to her, didn’t she? You attack someone on their property in the dead of night, planning to do them harm, they have a right to defend themselves.”
“I suppose there’s logic there, Oma.” I nodded. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better about being a murderer right now.”
“We don’t know that.” Oma reiterated loudly with a waggle of her head. “And even if we did, it still don’t make you a murderer. It makes you a person who was defending hisself. Period.”
“Where would I find Andrew today?”
“Why?” She snapped.
“If you wanna know something about wolves…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Who else can give me an idea if this woman was a werewolf?” I shrugged. “Maybe she’s part of his pack?”
“Oh, this is just ridiculous.” Oma shook her head. “Andrew ain’t got a pack anyway.”
“You got any better ideas, Oma?”
“Yeah.” She slapped the table. “Sit your dumbass down and finish your coffee and pretend it never happened. In a week, they’ll decide they don’t know who that lady is, give her a pauper’s funeral, an unmarked grave, and we’ll never have to worry about it again. You done nothin’ wrong.”
“We can debate the morality of all of this later,” I said. “But that woman’s family has a right to know what happened. Especially so they can claim her body.”
