Amber grinned.
“Thank you.” Jason released her hand, shook Flynn’s, and walked both of them to the foyer.
At the door, Savannah turned and abruptly placed a hand on Jason’s chest. “And I’m serious about that massage.” Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “I intend to take full advantage of your services.” The suggestive glint in her eye put him off. Beautiful though she was, she made him uncomfortable.
Jason glanced at Flynn, who seemed not to notice that his girlfriend was just a touch too friendly. “Anytime.”
Flynn squeezed Jason’s shoulder. “I look forward to seeing the place when you’ve got it all fixed up.” He took Savannah’s hand and escorted her back to the sedan.
Jason went into the living room, and peered inconspicuously out the window to watch them go.
Beside him, Amber watched the couple with wide eyes. “She’s pretty, Daddy!”
Jason frowned. “Yes, she is.” And she knows it, too. His intuition told him that Savannah Sturgess was trouble.
3
Initiation
At three o’clock, Brent finally came downstairs to continue his moping. He skulked to the kitchen where he ransacked the fridge and cupboards for the limited food items they’d brought, noisily threw together a sandwich, and stomped back into the living room, glowered at Jason and Amber, then made a great show of having nowhere to sit down. Finally, making it look as inconvenient and uncomfortable as possible, he settled for the stone hearth of the fireplace.
Jason, wiping down the walls with a bucket of soapy water, said, “The furniture will be here tomorrow.”
“It’s about time.” Even around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, the ice in Brent’s tone cut the air.
But at least he’s eating. And talking.
Brent grimaced down at his sandwich, clearly displeased for one reason or another. “How old is this bread?”
Jason sighed. “I just bought it a few days ago. It should be fine.”
Brent took another bite. “Who was here? I heard people talking.”
Amber, who sat on the floor, feeding Ruby something with an invisible spoon, piped up. “Oh! Tell him about Savannah, Daddy! She’s so pretty!”
Jason wasn’t sure how he felt about his daughter’s admiration for the Sturgess girl; he’d rather Amber looked up to someone more … appropriate - someone who didn’t look like they belonged in Penthouse Magazine. “It was Flynn Garvey, the realtor, and his girlfriend Savannah. They just wanted to see how we were settling in.”
“What happened to your client?” asked Brent.
“She left just as Flynn and Savannah arrived.”
Brent, already bored of the story, shoved the last of the sandwich in his mouth. “Don’t we have anything else to eat besides cold Chinese food and peanut butter and jelly?”
“I was going to take the car in and have the belt replaced,” said Jason. “I could stop and get us something on the way back.”
“Oh!” cried Amber. “I want onion rings!”
Jason thought onion rings sounded pretty good, too. “I’ll stop by that little burger joint we saw coming in. I’m sure they’ll have some. What about you, Brent? Do you want something?”
Brent shrugged. “I guess I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries. Without pickles or mustard.”
“And you can have some of my onion rings, too, if you want,” said Amber.
“As long as you don’t think that means you get my fries,” Brent said, as if Amber would have thought for a moment he’d be willing to share. Brent didn’t share - it was something Jason and Julia had learned about their son in his pre-school days, when he’d bloodied another child’s nose for borrowing one of his crayons.
Jason looked up the auto shop’s address, told Brent to keep an eye on Amber, and headed out to the Legacy. Not surprisingly, the squeal under the hood hadn’t fixed itself overnight - it sounded like a family of angry birds had nested there.
The mechanic shop, Coop’s Auto Body, was on the other side of town, giving Jason a chance to see more of Shadow Springs. Though if he were to be honest, he was glad to be out of the house. Brent was being belligerent and Jason wasn’t in the mood. A nice, quiet drive was just what he wanted.
The neighborhoods he passed looked much like his own and he was relieved to see he wasn’t the only guy with a creaky old Victorian. He was, however, the only guy with a vine-strangled old Victorian - most everyone else had cut their creepers down to nonexistence. Jason didn’t think he’d follow their lead, though. He kind of liked the vines. It gave the place a nice, Gothic vibe, like something from an old 1970s novel. All it needed was a wide-eyed, gasping woman in a transparent gown glancing back at it from the safety of a nearby tree. He smiled at the thought.
As he drove, he saw a small grocery store, the courthouse and city hall, and a car wash. He noticed colorful posters in shop windows announcing that a three-day carnival was coming to town next week and decided he’d ask the kids if they wanted to go - it would be a good way to get familiar with the locals. Given Amber’s dread of clowns, he doubted she’d want to go. Brent might like it, though. Maybe he’ll meet some kids his own age.
At the center of town was a cemetery - Shadow Springs Cemetery, Established 1879, said the crooked wooden sign. Jason slowed as he passed, thinking it looked like the set of a horror movie. With a throng of dripping weeping willows and crooked rows of dilapidated headstones surrounded by overgrown weeds, all it needed was a little fog and perhaps a raven or two. It struck him as odd that the place had no gates; you wouldn’t see a cemetery in LA - or any west coast city, probably - that wasn’t gated and locked. Why not just post a sign welcoming teens to drink, smoke cigarettes, and have sex here?
He continued on, passing the burger joint, where a young man wearing a hat designed to look like a French fries cup - complete with sprouting yellow fries - stood on the corner, waving a sign that read, Want fresh fries? Stop at Wise Guy’s!
Just past that was a rickety little bookstore called Tome After Tome - Heh. Clever - and then he spotted Coop’s Auto Body, a freshly-painted squat white edifice with an office and three bays, one of which was occupied by an apple green Kia Soul. He pulled into the small parking area and got out of the car.
“Hello there.” A small man in grease-stained coveralls and a shock of red hair was already starting toward him, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was oiled in a light sweat.
“Hi,” said Jason as the man approached. “I wondered if you could take a look at my car. It’s been making an irritating squeal. It started yesterday and seems to be getting worse.”
“Sounds like a belt.” The man’s eye twitched.
“That’s my guess.”
The little man held his hand out. “Jim Cooper. But my friends call me Coop. And I like to think of my customers as friends.”
They shook. “Pleased to meet you. Jason Crandall.”
“You must be the new guy that bought the old house on E Street.” He had the kind of darting eyes that made Jason think something sinister was going on.
“That’d be me.”
“I was planning on stopping by to welcome you to town.” They eye-twitching worsened.
Jason wondered if every citizen in Shadow Springs was going to pop by. If so, he really needed to shine the place up.
“You probably don’t know this, but you live next door to my grandmother, Tabitha Cooper.”
“Really? I didn’t know. The only neighbor I’ve met is Dottie Blanchard.” Jason recalled Dottie’s unkind words about Coop’s grandmother: ‘A rather strange old woman if you ask me. The children in town call her a witch, and I don’t blame them one bit.’
“Yeah, but you probably won’t see much of her. She never leaves the house anymore.” Now his lip twitched. “Blind as a bat, too, but she still manages to take care of herself for the most part. Of course, I’ve been having to spend more time over there lately.” He frowned. “I’m her only local living relative.” Coop
scrunched up his face as if disgusted. It was a quick, unconscious expression - a grander gesture from his nervous tic. “Anyway, welcome to town. We haven’t had any newcomers for a while. Folks have probably been on you like a mullet on a redneck.”
Jason laughed. “Well, I’ve had a few visitors, yes.”
“You’ll learn quick that people around here are nosy about strangers. Don’t let it get to you. In a couple weeks, they’ll get bored and go back to talking about who’s sleeping with who and who’s getting fat.”
“I appreciate the heads-up, Coop.”
When Jason called him by his preferred name - Coop - the man relaxed, as if this show of familiarity closed the gap between strangers and friends.
“So, what brings you to Shadow Springs?”
Jason told him about the new business and the need to get away from the city - but added nothing personal.
“I never much cared for the city.” Coop frowned, his bushy red-gold eyebrows knitting together. “Too much commotion. It’s nice and quiet here. The bad news is it’s boring as a hillbilly’s funeral.” He considered. “But there is a carnival coming next week. It happens every couple of years or so. Pathetic, but we really look forward to it.”
“I saw the signs,” said Jason. “I might have to check it out.”
“You should. You might not see anything new after that for another decade.”
Jason laughed.
Coop pulled a greasy red rag from his back pocket and began wiping his hands. “You married?”
“I’m a recent widower.” The words were foreign in his mouth.
Coop’s eye twitched and he bunched up his face. “Sorry to hear that. I didn’t realize.”
“What about you?”
“Me, married? No way. I’m forever single. I like the single life.” He said it like a man who had his choice of women - and Jason had a hard time believing that was true. At no more than five-foot-seven with crooked teeth, a paunch, and a nervous tic to boot, he struck Jason as a lonely man. “The only thing that sucks is that all my buddies have up and got married, so it gets a little dull. Well, except old Fred De La Paz. He’s still single.” He looked at Jason. “But it’s not so bad being single. You get used to it.”
Jason cleared his throat. “I hope so.” For a moment, he thought Coop might offer more condolences. Please don’t.
“So, why don’t I take a look at that car of yours? I got an open bay and some time to kill while I wait for some parts to arrive on Mary Jacobsen’s Kia. There’s a waiting room in the office with some vending machines so you can snack while you pretend to read the old Entertainment Weeklys.” He grinned.
“Sounds great.” Jason handed Coop the keys and started toward the office.
“Say,” said Coop. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow? I’m not really doing anything, I guess. Just cleaning house. Why?”
“Well, I was just thinking. We’re two single guys and, well, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other since you live next to my grandmother and, well … I don’t know … why don’t you take a break from cleaning and let me buy you a beer? Say seven o’clock?” His gaze flitted around and he spoke quickly; he looked like a boy asking a girl to prom. “There’s a divey little watering hole on Main where a lot of the locals hang out. I can show you who’s who, and who to stay away from.” Coop tried to grin again but his facial tics got the best of him. The twitching seemed to flare up when the man was uncomfortable.
Jason’s knee-jerk reaction was to wonder what the guy wanted from him. He reminded himself that small-town folks were different from those in the city. “Uh, sure. What’s the name of the place?”
The twitching ceased immediately. “The Devil’s Triangle. You won’t be able to miss it.”
Jason had guessed right - it was just a fan belt. Coop had fixed it up quick and given Jason a hell of a deal on the cost and wouldn’t hear of taking more. Very generous of him. The little man was genuinely excited about their plans for tomorrow night; it seemed to Jason that he was as curious about newcomers as the town he criticized. He’s on me like a mullet on a redneck. Jason chuckled.
As he headed home, he took Main so he could check out The Devil’s Triangle.
‘You won’t be able to miss it,’ Coop had said, but in fact, Jason almost had.
Main Street was lined with large-windowed boutiques in a series of connected historical false-front buildings. It seemed like one ongoing Old West structure that stretched from one end of the block to the other. The only thing that distinguished the shops from one another was that each sported a different color of faded paint. There was a green clothing boutique, an orange liquor store, a pink candy shop, a brown museum, and a white electronics shop. On the west corner, painted red, was The Devil’s Triangle, discernible only because of the red neon letters in the window and a petite red awning with the bar’s name written beside a large white triangle - with little devil horns on it.
After giving the place a thorough gawking, he turned around and headed back toward home. Home, he thought, realizing that, already, it really did feel like it.
Heading back the way he’d come, he passed Shadow Springs Cemetery, and two blocks later, pulled into the lot of Wise Guy’s. Before he’d even killed the engine, he was approached by a bubble-blowing blonde on roller skates, her pink poodle skirt swishing as she brought herself to a quick stop at Jason’s window. “Welcome to Wise Guy’s. What can I get you?”
Jason placed the kids’ order, then decided on a double bacon cheeseburger and onion rings for himself.
The girl punched the order into an electronic pad, swiped his card, and rolled away. She, for one, had no interest in newcomers, and Jason was grateful.
As he waited, he fiddled with the radio, not surprised that only a handful of stations came in. Naturally, they all played country. And rap. Jason flipped it off and looked around.
Wise Guy’s was hopping with teens. According to the dashboard clock, it was nearing six p.m. Apparently, this place was the local hangout.
He read the news headlines on his phone until something just outside of his awareness brought his eyes up. Gooseflesh prickled; he felt like he was being watched. He looked around and at first, noticed nothing. Then he spotted a black Jeep parked several spaces down - and the man within it.
The guy’s gaze struck hard against his own, and Jason found himself momentarily snared in the piercing, hateful eyes of a large man with oily dark hair that hung over his heavy brow, a crooked nose that had probably been broken a dozen times, and a bull neck roped with muscle. The menace in his eyes was palpable, unnerving.
Trapped in that gaze, it took a moment for Jason to gather his bearings. Glancing away, he turned his attention to the radio knobs until, after what felt like a painfully long time, the girl on roller skates returned with his order. He snatched it from her and thanked her, and as he pulled away, cast another glance at the black Jeep.
The guy was still watching him.
What the hell? Freak! Jason pulled out and headed home.
The menacing man was soon forgotten as the smell of onion rings and bacon pervaded his senses and set his mouth watering. Realizing he was much hungrier than he’d thought, it occurred to him he should have gotten two burgers. Nah. His eyes were always bigger than his stomach.
When the black Jeep appeared in his rearview, Jason’s stomach folded in on itself. You’ve got to be kidding me … At first, the vehicle lingered behind him several yards, but then it flew up close enough that Jason braced himself for impact. But it never came. The Jeep backed off and revved its engine before repeating the act of aggression.
Jason moved over, giving plenty of room, but the man wasn’t interested in getting past him. Jason rolled down his window and gestured for him to pass, but the black Jeep remained behind him, playing the nerve-wracking game.
What the hell does he want?
When the Jeep lurched forward a third time, it came perilously close -
too close - to ramming into him, and Jason yanked the wheel, pulling the car to the side of the road, prepared to confront the guy.
The Jeep did the same, parking right behind him.
Jason unbuckled his seatbelt and - his hand on the door handle - saw the guy hop out of the Jeep. Slamming his door shut, he hulked toward Jason, his meaty hands fists at his sides. He was every bit as big as his neck had suggested, with muscles that stretched his flannel shirt to the limit. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing forearms the size of most men’s thighs.
Jason regretted pulling over.
As the large man approached, Jason rolled his window down, his heart clobbering itself against his ribs. But he refused to show intimidation; he’d done nothing wrong, and whatever was bothering the guy, it was his problem.
The guy leaned down, hands on his knees, bringing his large square face in front of Jason’s. A few days’ worth of stubble covered a powerful jaw.
In a voice meant to sound sure of itself, but probably didn’t, Jason said, “Is there a problem?”
His square jaw flexed. “You the new guy in town? Mr. Massage?”
“I … yeah.”
“Then I got a problem, all right.”
Jason stared at him, his mind racing. “Excuse me?”
“Yep. I sure do. I got a problem. A big one.” Old scars left a few bald gaps in his beard stubble; they stood out in white relief. “I got a problem when some guy starts touching my wife. You bet I got a problem.”
It took a moment for Jason to put it together. Oh, shit. Marlee Delgado. This must be the jealous husband. Marlee had mentioned his name and Jason wished like mad he could remember it now. Calling him “Mr. Delgado” would only reinforce the man’s sense of dominance. Jason needed to get level with him. What the hell is his name? “Look ... what I do … it isn’t like that. It’s not sexual. It’s-”
Delgado’s lip lifted in a sneer. “It’s not sexual,” he said in a high mocking falsetto.
Sleep Savannah Sleep Page 4
