The Girl in the Mist: A Misted Pines Novel

by Ashley, Kristen

“I hear it’s very good,” she went on. “It’s just that I don’t read those types of books. I don’t read to think. I read to escape.”

  “What types of books do you read?” I asked.

  She turned back to the mural, and like so many of our kind, she sounded abashed when she admitted, “I like romance.”

  “Do you read Priscilla Lange?”

  She turned to me, her face now animated. “You?”

  Naturally I did, since I wrote them.

  I smiled.

  She leaned in conspirative, now that we were HEA sisters.

  “They’re racy,” she told me. “Racier than my norm, but it’s not trashy.”

  I hated the word “trashy” in all its uses, particularly when it was used to describe romance novels. I had equal acrimony for the word “smut.”

  I didn’t share that and decided to accept the compliment she didn’t know she was giving.

  “Agreed.”

  “I never miss one of her books.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “I wish she published more than one a year.”

  I said nothing.

  Her tone grew warm and serious. “It was a beautiful gesture, what you tried to do for Alice.”

  I dipped my chin.

  Her gaze wandered off, I would know, with what she said next, in the direction of the sheriff’s department.

  “Sheriff Dern is a disaster,” she decreed.

  I again made no reply.

  Her attention came back to me. “I mean, considering…” an appropriate pause, “what I heard happened to her. It probably wouldn’t have helped. The reward. But we’ll never know. And everyone is talking about it. Why he didn’t announce it. I mean, it doesn’t help to share that at the little girl’s funeral for God’s sakes.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And of course you know about the dogs.”

  The dogs?

  “Sorry?” I asked.

  “He should have called in the dogs. Like, right away. We don’t have this kind of thing happening here. So we don’t have a K-9 unit. The next county over has them. I heard that, before they even left the station to go to Dale and Audrey’s, Harry said call for the dogs. For no good reason but to point out he’s in charge, to put Harry in his place, Leland didn’t call for the damn dogs. And then it was hours before they called for those dogs.”

  I felt my mouth tighten.

  She didn’t miss it and hissed out, “Yes.” Then carried on, “And you’re very aware Cade should have been called in even before the dogs. I mean, the man himself found Percy Gibson and led the cops in Wichita to the Rooftop Gunman.”

  That made my entire body tighten.

  Holy hell.

  It seemed like sometime in the midst of all my obsessive keeping track of what happened to Alice, or in all the time since, I should have Googled Bohannan myself.

  I had no idea.

  Though I knew about both.

  Percy Gibson was known as Ted Bundy Lite (because, you know, the media is so cruel and clever with those kinds of things). In the end, he’d been convicted of killing seven college women from three different colleges in two different states. But it was considered by the authorities there might be more, they just couldn’t find them, and he wasn’t talking.

  The Rooftop Gunman in Wichita had had a Son of Sam-type spree, though thankfully much shorter. He’d taken aim from random roofs in the city eight times in three and a half weeks before he was caught. In the end, he killed three people and wounded seven.

  He’d committed suicide by cop.

  He’d been a veteran army sniper.

  The government had swiftly and boisterously lauded how quickly he was caught with the local and federal authorities working together, making so much noise about that, it hid the fact that they did not take this as further evidence they needed to do more to take care of our veterans.

  He was not Percy Gibson, Ted Bundy or David Berkowitz.

  He was a man who served our country who deserved better well before whatever demons he’d acquired had the chance to accomplish their takeover.

  “I mean, you have that kind of local resource, a girl vanishes into nothing, you call on it, don’t you think?” she asked me.

  “Yes, I think,” I replied firmly.

  She turned fully to me. “You know, we’re all happy you’re with him. A good man needs a good woman just as much as that works the other way around.”

  Yes, even though I wholeheartedly agreed, she probably shouldn’t read We Pluck the Cord.

  And yes, this was a small town and news traveled very fast.

  “And Grace was not a good woman,” she continued. “I knew that even before she left. Everyone noticed how she treated Celeste.”

  Now she had my attention.

  “And how was that?” I asked quietly.

  “Like she was a nuisance,” she told me frankly.

  As my heart squeezed, I looked at Aromacobana.

  Which was where Celeste was right then, on a coffee date with Will Pulaski.

  “Grace was liked only a little bit more than Audrey,” the woman shared. “I know Cade loved her.” I looked to her. “She treated him and her boys like gold. Dedicated to them. So I, for one, am glad she took off. Because if she hadn’t, Cade would have eventually had to make the decision to cut her loose so he could get Celeste safe. And that would have killed him.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “That would have killed him.”

  “I’m Megan,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

  I took it. “Delphine.”

  She gave me a squeeze, we let go, and she invited, “We have a book club. We meet once a month. Romance only. I get that we’re just townies, but no one will be weird with you, and we’d love to have you.”

  “That’s really nice. I think I’d like that.”

  Her expression shifted, her regard of me did too.

  She then dug in her purse, came out with a little, monogrammed, leather covered notepad, slid the small pen out of the attached holder and flipped it open.

  She tore off what she wrote and handed it to me.

  I took it.

  “I’ll leave it up to you to call me.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “It’s not my place but I’m going to say it anyway, I know you’re worried.” She jerked her head to the coffee shop. “Will’s a good boy. But he’s a boy. And now he’s a boy who’s hurting. He has no business dating right now.”

  I held her gaze steady.

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by “he’s a boy,” but I was sure she knew why I was fretfully standing outside Aromacobana, staring at a mural.

  “Also, you should know, this Alice thing?” She shook her head. “Anomaly. It’s safe here. I’ve lived here my whole life. I promise you. It’s safe here. If you need a place to disappear, be around real people, you found your spot. And we’ll protect that for you. You know how people are wherever Harrison Ford lives in Wyoming? That’ll be how we are for you. No one will breathe a word you’re here.”

  “Thanks again.”

  The things she was saying were making me feel good in all that seemed to be going bad.

  Until she carried on.

  “Except Leland. He’s running scared and you’re high-profile. Bigger media gets wind of Alice, and his bungling of that, no telling what he’ll do. Be careful.”

  “I appreciate the warning.”

  She nodded, glanced to the paper in my hand and back to me.

  “I hope you call.”

  I nodded this time and promised, “I will.”

  She started to walk away but turned back.

  “I don’t have to like it, and I don’t like it. But they got more signatures. Do you know what I mean?”

  At that, I gave her my full smile.

  “I know exactly what you mean, Megan.”

  She gave me a full smile back, and she was very pretty.

  “See you at book club,” she said.

&
nbsp; “See you there,” I replied.

  Twenty-Eight

  Warm and Fuzzy

  As a mother, semi-stalking your children was a highly sensitive operation.

  As the new-semi-woman-in-a-kid’s-life, it was almost impossible.

  However, after Megan left me, I did my best to saunter casually, and very slowly, in front of the windows of Aromacobana, glancing in to find Celeste and Will.

  I did.

  They didn’t notice me.

  But I got a good look at him.

  And…

  Well.

  Shit.

  Let me take you back…

  Last night, Bohannan got into my bedroom.

  That would be to stand, leaning against the jamb of the door of my closet while I packed light to move to his house, doing it light because it was late. I was going to come back in the morning to pack heavier.

  He did this after he whistled low when he saw the closet.

  He’d been pensive and careful with his expressions since he’d shown up that night, but his eyes were twinkling when he said, “My closet is better.”

  Even though I knew it was because he gave it to Grace, I still felt that sexually.

  I had a feeling on the drive to his place, which was in my car, which meant I drove, Bohannan suffered a hit to his manhood that he wasn’t behind the wheel, but he let his brooding fill the cab of the car without making it verbal.

  He also told me on the short ride to his place, “I want you in my bed because I want you in my bed, I also want you close. But you’re going to stay in our guestroom. Celeste knows we’re a thing. She’s nearly grown up. But it’s too soon. And we both got tension to release, and I’m far from high school, but you that close, I’m not feeling testing my control.”

  How he managed the marvel of being a good father, a protective boyfriend-ish-type person and sexually charging one short speech, I did not know.

  But he did it.

  Regardless of the fact I was freaked out that I was moving in with my boyfriend-ish-type person I hadn’t even kissed yet, and mostly why I was, a mixture of euphoria and excitement and a deep-down warmth that couldn’t be denied filled me when I added my Volvo to their collection of vehicles.

  Celeste, he also shared as we walked into the house, had been briefed.

  As an aside, he’d commandeered my bag, which held a pair of pajamas, face cleanser, moisturizer, deodorant, a clean pair of panties, jeans and a sweater, so it probably weighed less than ten pounds. But he strong armed his way to it so I suspected his manhood got revived at least a little bit.

  When we arrived, Celeste was in bed, so after Bohannan got me sorted, he hung out in my bedroom with me.

  This being, we cuddled in the armchair across from the bed.

  But I got to be in his lap.

  He had a very comfortable lap and a long arm reach, so I also got to use him as a kind of cocoon.

  It was lovely.

  He shared I had not read it wrong.

  For whatever reason, they were thinking Alice’s killer was prowling Bohannan land.

  Which led to a more in-depth questioning for me.

  What he looked like. Age. Height. Weight. Race.

  (Dark hair. I couldn’t tell age or height, but at a guess, between twenty and forty, and average. He didn’t appear overweight, or under it. Last, white.)

  What was he wearing?

  (It looked like a light blue sweatshirt that was wet. No hat. No umbrella. No slicker. In the rain.)

  Did he appear interested in my house?

  (No, he didn’t even look up at my house, but I had him in my sights mere seconds.)

  Did I get a look at his face?

  (No, alas, I did not.)

  It also led to more questioning for Bohannan.

  He seemed hesitant, but in the end, he gave it to me.

  “It isn’t unusual for someone like him to want to play with someone like me.”

  This just kept getting worse.

  He continued speaking.

  “That said, it wasn’t yesterday we found Alice. With this kind of thing, there’s no telling what his actions might be. Some like him could take years to start playing games with investigators. Leaving a definitive trail the way he did says something, though he chose a day it was raining, and if you hadn’t seen him, that trail could have been gone before we saw it. And you said he didn’t look to your place to see if you saw him. But he could just know there’s activity at your house, and hope he was seen. That seems thin. So my read on that might be wrong. I would think there would be something. Something concrete. A sign. Him leaving a present. Something to announce he’s going to dick with me. So maybe I’m being hyper-sensitive.” He gave me a squeeze. “But we’re not taking any chances.”

  “I’m guessing that with where I am,” I noted.

  Another squeeze and, “We’ll be giving you some Taser lessons. Once we do, I’d like you to carry one with you. Hawk’s got your GPS fob still tracking. He’s sending one for Celeste with Billy. Billy is going to help us keep an eye on the property, you and Celeste. David has been briefed, and he’s going to go about his business at your place but keep an eye out. I also told Moran, but not Dern. He knows who the good deputies are, and who they aren’t, and he’s already formed a loose, unofficial team who are working this themselves, but we’re coordinating. He told me he’ll do what he can. As for you and Celeste, you live your lives. You do your thing. You do it knowing you’re covered, one way or another, though do that smart and watchful. But when we take downtime, I don’t want our resources scattered.”

  “Circling the wagons,” I murmured.

  “Precisely.”

  “Can you tell me about the case?” I asked.

  “I could, if I had anything to tell you.”

  “But…” I started carefully. “You found her.”

  “He wanted us to.”

  “That easy?” I asked.

  “For Dern? No. Even for Harry. Maybe not. For me. Yes, that easy.”

  “And?”

  This was when he finally allowed his frustration to come out.

  Which meant I pressed closer.

  “And, I’m running through every playbook I got, Larue. And there’s just not enough there to get a good read on him. I actually want whoever you saw to be him. I need more from him if I’m gonna catch him. What I don’t want is for that more to come in the form of bodies.”

  I had agreed with him, and I would have liked to end the night with a make-out session, but I didn’t think that would help things for Bohannan.

  So I got another squeeze and a forehead kiss before he went to his bed and I went to mine.

  But that was why I was free to wander town, semi-stalking Celeste on her date, even though Jess, Jace, or the unknown Billy were out there somewhere watching her (and me), because before Megan gave me her warning, I was thinking the same thing.

  I wasn’t fond of how Celeste described their first date as her being the dumping ground for Will Pulaski’s anger.

  Of course, he needed someone to talk to.

  Celeste simply wasn’t that person.

  Sure, if she’d been his girlfriend prior to that, and they’d had time together, establishing history, a connection, where she knew all the players from more than just high school gossip, naturally, she’d be one of those resources for him.

  But she hadn’t been his girlfriend, and she wasn’t mature enough to have the tools to deal with his emotion, or the ones it might stir in her.

  So I wandered town—the residential part of which snaked into the hills and valleys, but for the business district, it was a pretty much one street that ran five blocks—taking in what I had sensed, but hadn’t yet been able to take in completely.

  This place was strange.

  It simply wasn’t normal.

  Bear-shooting-hunter mural aside, as an example, they had a movie theater.

  But the latest big release wasn’t playing.

  Halloween w
as a few days away, and although it was apropos, I could not imagine with this small population it would be financially responsible to be showing a double feature of Carrie and Christine.

  I also wasn’t sure, in the current climate, that a double feature with two horror films with female names was the way to roll.

  But there it was.

  There was also the fact that the Aromacobana was the only—and I mean the only—sign that anything beyond the new millennium had touched Misted Pines.

  Example, they had a Five and Dime, capitalized because it was called Hoot’s Five and Dime. Glancing inside, I saw it had a pegboard wall filled with stuff hanging on miniature rods, a table at the front advertising a sale on skeins of yarn, and a soda fountain at the side. Therefore, I was mildly shocked it didn’t have girls in petticoats and saddle shoes sitting on the stools sipping cherry cokes while their ponytails swayed.

  Honestly, as I walked the sidewalks, in looks and mood, it felt like I was traversing the outdoor location of Stranger Things.

  And that was the earliest I’d date stamp this place.

  The Double D being the perfect set piece for a new rendition of “Beauty School Dropout” was not an incongruity.

  Truth told, there was something very wholesome about it.

  Like, you wouldn’t blink if Marty McFly raced down the sidewalk on his skateboard.

  That said, there was something…off about it.

  Like, in seeing the tall, broad-shouldered, russet-haired young man talking earnestly to Celeste in the coffee house and looking exactly like the handsome, charming love interest who ends up date raping the innocent, sweet, open-hearted heroine…

  Well….

  Suffice it to say.

  That didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy.

  Twenty-Nine

  Maybe Fourteen

  I got a text early that evening saying the men would be home for dinner.

  I didn’t have a lot of experience with a house that was boy-heavy, but I was learning fast.

  That meant I pulled out their huge family Foreman grill and had it heated up and ready to rumble by the time the parade of Yukon and Rams hit the Bohannan compound clearing.