by Ann Charles
When I asked Aunt Zoe if she’d heard of such creatures as the black predators or the gutted, decapitated hunter, she reminded me that if I’d read my family history book, I wouldn’t need to be asking her that question. Stalemated again.
“Why is Coop calling you a rookie?” Natalie asked, fidgeting with her empty glass.
“He thinks I acted recklessly today.”
“What would you have had her do?” She looked at him, only to drop her gaze to his chest almost immediately.
What was going on with her tonight? First she’d downed three hot buttered rums like they were tequila shots, and now she was acting like a virgin in a strip club.
“She should’ve waited until Nyce and I were there to help her.”
“What if you hadn’t been there at all?”
“That point is moot because we were there.”
“But what if, Coop?” She knocked the glass back and forth on the table with her fingers, like it was a hockey puck. “What should Vi do if she ends up in a situation like that and has nobody there to help her?”
“It depends on the situation and the weapons at her disposal.”
“What’s your point, Nat?” I asked.
“Instead of criticizing you, maybe Coop needs to train you on how to handle situations like what you experienced today.” She stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. “Put his money where his mouth is.”
His gaze narrowed at her dare.
“And in exchange,” she continued, turning to me. “You could school Coop on how to deal with his ability to see ghosts.”
“What do I know about dealing with ghosts? That’s Doc’s territory.”
“Not entirely,” Doc said, joining us in a pair of faded jeans and a blue and black plaid flannel shirt. His wet hair was finger combed. Stubble still darkened his jaw. His bruised ribs were obvious in his stiff posture and by his wince when he settled into the chair next to me.
“Okay, it’s your and Cornelius’s territory then,” I said.
He pointed at the plate of toffee pieces in the middle of the table. “Will you hand me one of those, please?”
I reached across and grabbed two, setting them on a small plate in front of him. “You could use some extra sugar tonight.” Not that he needed any sweetening up, unlike Cooper.
“I could use extra sugar most nights.” His flirty grin made me blush since Natalie and Cooper were watching us. He lifted a piece of candy, his face sobering. “Have you forgotten that you’re a physical medium when you’re not swinging your weapons around playing Executioner?”
“I try to forget about talking to ghosts as often as possible.”
“You’re cute when you’re in denial.” He took a bite of toffee, swallowing before continuing. “My experiences and interactions with ghosts are different from yours. You’ve been able to converse with them upon occasion, whereas I’m forced to experience their past from first-person point of view.”
Lucky for me, my interactions with ghosts were rare. I had enough headaches with my Executioner playdates.
“Coop follows more along your footsteps when it comes to interacting with entities,” Doc added. “Only he doesn’t have to go under in a séance to see them.”
“See,” Natalie said, standing and stretching. “Coop could teach you how to follow whatever police procedures he uses during altercations to stay alive, and you could teach him how to keep from getting his tighty-whities in a wad when he sees a ghost.”
“I don’t wear tighty-whities,” he growled.
She swung her gaze his way, her eyes glancing down over him. “I remember, Coop. It was merely a turn of phrase.”
His cheeks darkened, but he kept a poker face. “Parker doesn’t want to learn from me.”
“He’s right. Have you seen how many scars he has? I’m not sure I like his methods for avoiding bodily harm.”
Not to mention that Cooper often reminded me of Yosemite Sam, Bugs Bunny’s fiery archenemy, minus the red mustache. Both men had hair-trigger tempers, a fondness for weapons, and a cannon barrel full of unchecked aggression. One wrong step during the detective’s daily lesson and he’d probably blast a hole in me.
I crossed my arms, leaning my elbows on the table. “Cooper will lock me in the hoosegow for days if he has to spend that much time with me, and I have Christmas shopping to do.”
Doc chuckled and then grunted in pain, holding his left side. “In spite of both of your reservations, I think Natalie’s onto something here. The two of you could learn quite a bit from each other. That’s if you can handle being in the same room for more than ten minutes.”
“I can handle it,” I said, looking over at Cooper’s stony expression. “But the detective tends to get hurt around me. I’d hate to accidentally add another notch to his crooked nose.”
Cooper scowled at me. “I’ve watched Parker in action multiple times now. I don’t think she’s trainable.”
“What?” I scoffed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re a loose cannon. You have no code of conduct, and regulations make your wild hair stand on end.”
“You had to get that jab about my hair in there, didn’t you?” I turned to Doc. “See, he’s impossible.”
Doc’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “You do tend to have a problem with rules.”
“Rules are for fools,” Natalie repeated a mantra we had in school.
I raised my glass of hot buttered rum to her. “You’re singing to the choir, rock star.”
Cooper pointed at Natalie. “You’re in the same boat, Beals.”
“Of course she is.” I defended my best friend with gusto. “Her cousins are the notorious Morgan sisters, remember? Bucking the law is in Natalie’s DNA, just as slaying freaky nasties is in mine.”
“Maybe Coop could teach both Natalie and you some tricks of his trade,” Doc suggested. “He could help you both be more aware of unseen dangers.”
Natalie walked over to the counter, swaying a little along the way. “Nah. Coop doesn’t like to play with local girls, does he, Vi?”
I played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She giggled as she poured more rum into her glass. “Yes, you do. I bared my soul on my birthday, remember? I told you all of the juicy details even though you pretended we weren’t talking about Coop.”
Dear Lord. Somebody stuff a grapefruit in her pie hole.
I looked over to find Cooper’s squint drilling into me with a soul-sizzling intensity. It didn’t take any sort of detective training for me to see how he felt about my knowing the details of his makeout session with Natalie behind the Purple Door Saloon.
Shaking my head at him, I mimed tipping the bottle and glugging. “We just played a few rounds of pool.”
“And I kicked your ass.” Natalie raised the glass of rum minus the hot butter and took a sip.
“How are you getting home tonight?” Cooper asked her.
She shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re not driving, especially in this snow.”
Her chin jutted. “I can walk. It’s not that far.”
“You’ll wander into a snow drift and freeze to death. I’ll take you home.”
“Or I can call your buddy down at the station. Detective Hawke is still sleeping downstairs in Ms. Wolff’s old apartment, guarding all of those clocks, right?”
Detective Hawke had become obsessed with counting clocks in the murdered woman’s apartment after several had gone missing. While he’d initially come to Deadwood to act as Cooper’s temporary partner and help solve some of the cases stacking up on Cooper’s desk, his inability to find solid answers was making his grip on sanity slip and slide right into Nutter Alley. That was Harvey’s latest assessment, anyway.
“Hawke’s down in Rapid for a week on a mandatory stress leave.”
“No way.” I gaped. “How did you manage that?”
“I didn’t. You did.”
“What? I didn’t do anythi
ng.”
“Right, you only pretended to be a witch who could talk to ghosts in front of him, and then you put a hex on him and planted a trigger word in his head that makes him bark like a mad dog.”
Hawke had made the mistake during our first meeting of talking down to me like my brains were made of cotton candy. His second mistake had been poking fun at my hair. After that, it had been one rowdy and raucous Pecos promenade after another for us. How could I resist stirring the pot when he came up with such outrageous accusations every other time we met? A mother of twins only had so much patience to spare.
“To be fair,” I said, “I didn’t plant the trigger word. Prudence did.”
“But you were the one who suckered him into going to the Carhart house to act as Prudence’s karaoke machine,” Cooper pointed out.
“True, but I had no idea that exposing him to her mental manipulations would cause his mind to short-circuit.”
“That’s because you’ve never had her inside your head.”
Cooper and Doc had both battled Prudence, at least mentally, and lost. Apparently, Executioners could retain some of their abilities even after death. A fact I hoped not to find out for myself anytime soon.
“I don’t know if Prudence can go into Violet’s head,” Doc said.
My fingers were crossed she couldn’t. It was bad enough facing off with her puppets every time she wanted to tell me how shitty I was at my job.
“Anyway,” Cooper continued. “Yesterday afternoon, the chief informed me that Detective Hawke had been told to take the week off and get his shit together.”
A week without the asshole threatening me at every turn? What would I do with all of my unspent stress? Oh, yeah. Worry about what was going on back in Slagton.
“I don’t need a ride from you, Coop,” Natalie said. “I’ll call a taxi.”
He pointed out the kitchen window. “The roads are covered in several inches already. There aren’t any taxis out tonight. Either I drive you home when you’re ready, or you stay put for tonight.”
Natalie scowled at me over the rim of her glass. “Coop’s bossy.”
“That’s news to you?” I scoffed. “You can sleep on the couch if you want.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer and save Coop a trip through the snow.”
I had a feeling her reason for rejecting his ride home had more to do with whatever had her drinking more than usual, but I kept my mouth shut.
Aunt Zoe cruised back into the room, wearing her fleece pajamas under her robe. “You want some coffee, Coop? I just made it.” When he hesitated, she added, “It goes great with the toffee.”
“Sure. Where’s Martin tonight?”
She frowned, moving to the coffee maker. “How should I know? Where’s your uncle?”
“There’s some Christmas shindig at the senior center that he didn’t want to miss.” Cooper grimaced. “He was wearing a Santa costume with a sprig of mistletoe taped to his belt buckle when he stopped by the police station earlier to bring me a sandwich for supper. Said something about trying to get kissed under the mistletoe before the night was through.”
“Oh, Willis,” Aunt Zoe said, chuckling.
I grinned at Harvey’s ingenuity when it came to getting tail. “I’m surprised they’re having the party with it snowing like it is.” Hunkering down until it cleared seemed safer to me.
Cooper shrugged, taking the cup of coffee Aunt Zoe handed him. “They’re old-timers. Snow doesn’t scare them. Besides, one of our off-duty officers is in charge of transportation for the party. He has a custom-built snow crawler with a cab that fits six. I’ve seen him go up Mill Street in Lead when it’s iced over with hardly a slip.”
“I’ll have to check it out one of these days,” Doc said. “Might be fun to build one of those for myself.”
Addy came into the kitchen with Elvis the mouse-catcher tucked under her arm. Her straight blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her cheeks rosy from sitting in her beanbag next to the fireplace. Her glasses looked crooked on her face. I’d have to have Doc take a look at them again and see if he could straighten them out.
“Hey, Coop.” She filched a piece of candy from the plate on the table. “Are you spending the night again? You can stay in my room if you want. It doesn’t stink like perfume that much anymore.” She hit him with a double-dimple smile.
Cooper had spent over a week with us, day and night, earlier this month thanks to Detective Hawke’s determination to pin the murder of Ms. Wolff on me. Luckily, I was able to dodge that bullet, but at a steep cost. Plus, I had to put up with Cooper in my business 24/7. While we managed to find some common ground in our mutual appreciation for middle-of-the-night westerns, I danced a jig of joy when he packed his duffel bag and traded places with Doc.
“Thanks, Addy, but not tonight,” Cooper said, smiling down at her. “I’m on call, so I’ll crash on the couch in the chief’s office at work.”
“Hey, kid, I’ll take you up on that offer,” Natalie said. “But only if you stay in there and keep me company.”
“Yes! It’ll be a slumber party!” Addy turned to me, bouncing up and down. “Can Elvis stay in there with us, too?”
“No!” Natalie and I nixed the idea in unison.
The bouncing stopped. “Fine! What did you do with my Christmas list, Mom?”
I smacked her hand away when she reached for more candy. “That’s enough candy for tonight, child. I mailed your list to Santa, why?”
“Dang it. I wanted to add something else.”
“What?” My tone was wary. I couldn’t help it. If she asked for a rabbit cage or a pot-bellied pigpen, I was going to have to put my foot down.
“A gun.”
“No,” Cooper said, beating me to it.
I crossed my arms. “Absolutely not, Adelynn Renee.”
“Do you mean a toy gun?” Natalie asked. “Like a Nerf gun?”
“Why do you want a gun, Addy?” Doc asked.
She shifted Elvis to her other arm. “To protect Mom,” she answered Doc, her expression earnest.
Aunt Zoe lowered her coffee cup, her brow furrowed as she looked from Addy to me. “Protect her from what, kiddo?”
“The hungry wolf-monster.”
Wolf? Had she been watching one of those horror movies that played on the Red Riding Hood fairy tale? Or was it a werewolf movie? Surely Jeff didn’t let Kelly and her have free rein with the television last night. He said he was going to be there with them all evening. Maybe he fell asleep early …
“What hungry wolf-monster?” Doc pressed.
She hugged Elvis close, her worried gaze meeting mine over the chicken. “The one that keeps trying to eat her in my dreams.”
* * *
Sunday, December 16th
Nothing tried to eat me in my dreams, but I did wake up the next morning to find two pairs of eyes watching me.
“What are you two doing?” I asked Addy and Layne, who stood beside my bed staring down at me.
“You had a slumber party, too,” Addy whispered.
I blinked, sitting upright. “A slumber party?” I whispered back.
Layne pointed behind me. “Why is he sleeping in your bed?”
Oh, crud.
I looked over at the man lying next to me with his eyes closed. What was Doc doing still asleep? He usually woke before the sun. Then again, he’d had a rough time trying to relax last night with his bruised ribs. Finally, he’d drifted off in the early morning hours after I convinced him to take a dose of over-the-counter sleeping medicine. It was the same stuff Aunt Zoe had bought me earlier this fall when I was having trouble with nightmares every time I closed my eyes.
Shooing the kids out of my room, I grabbed my robe and slippers and followed them into the hall. After one last peek on Doc, I quietly pulled the door closed and led Addy and Layne down to the kitchen where Natalie and Aunt Zoe sat at the table sipping coffee.
“Both of you sit,” I ordered the kids, earning raised
brows from Aunt Zoe. I poured myself some caffeinated brain juice and joined them. “There is something you two kids need to understand about Doc sleeping in my bed.”
“Are we really doing this now?” Natalie interrupted.
“Why not?” Was there something I needed to know?
“Well, it’s just that we’re close to Christmas and everyone seems so happy.” She glanced pointedly toward Layne.
I looked at my son, whose arms were crossed. His eyes narrowed as he waited for me to continue.
“I thought you’d decided to hold off until after Santa’s visit,” Natalie added.
A few days ago, she and I had weighed when the best time might be for me to tell the kids the truth about Doc sleeping in my bed. Up until now, they hadn’t noticed where he crashed because he was always up before them to go to the gym. After considering the pros and cons, I’d decided to wait until after Christmas so that Doc’s first holiday with us wasn’t filled with angry glares and snippy attitudes.
Addy leaned her elbows on the table, lowering her voice like we were speaking in secrets. “What do we need to understand?”
“Doc got hurt yesterday,” I said.
“We know.” Layne shifted in his chair, sitting up straighter. “He hurt his ribs. He told us.”
“Did he tell you how?” I asked.
“He said it was an accident.” Addy pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “But he told me not to worry about him, that he’d be as good as new in a couple of days.”
In other words, he’d skirted the truth without openly lying. “He will be okay,” I assured her. “However, last night was a tough time for him. He was hurting pretty bad because it was a fresh injury. You know, like that first night after you broke your arm.”
“Right.” She turned to Natalie. “I cried off and on all night. Mom let me sleep with her and stroked my hair while I was awake.”
