by J. Judkins
Kim’s phone rang with her father’s unique ringtone. She thumbed the button on her steering wheel for hands-free, transferring the phone’s audio to the car’s speakers. “Hi, Dad.”
“Good morning. Is Angel with you?”
“She’s right here,” Kim said, speaking slightly louder to ensure she could be heard over the ambient noise of traffic.
“I’m going to be in town for a few more hours,” he said. “Have either of you had breakfast yet?”
“Kim ate my taco this morning,” Angel announced brightly.
Kim’s heart skipped a beat.
George Rowland made a strangled noise. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, Kim ate—”
Kim thumbed the disconnect button. When her hand returned to the steering wheel, it gripped it a little more tightly than normal.
Breathe. Just breathe.
The traffic ahead of them had thinned out. The driver of a green Chevy S-10 behind them had grown impatient. He signaled and accelerated into the empty oncoming traffic lane. Kim let up on the gas and eased her vehicle closer to the edge to make it easier for him to pass.
“Did you just hang up on your father?” Angel asked.
“Hmm . . . yes. I did.”
“Why?”
“I needed a second.”
Now fully recovered, Kim reconnected the call.
“Sorry about that,” Kim said. “We got disconnected. I meant to say that we’ve already had breakfast, and Angel has something planned for the rest of the day. Maybe next time? I love you. Bye.”
She killed the connection, and her breathing returned to normal.
“There’s no need to feel guilty, Kim,” Angel said after a moment.
“I’m not feeling guilty. This isn’t guilt.”
“I understand and accept why you did it. You thought my taco looked especially tasty, and—”
“Stop talking, please.”
Angel was silent for a moment. “Should I include tacos as part of the food ban?”
Kim’s eyes darted to Angel, then back to the road. “What food ban?”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
“What list?”
“I’ve begun to compile a list of embarrassing foodstuffs I’m not allowed to talk about. Desserts, whipped cream, strawberries, ice cream, and now tacos.”
Oh, God. Kill me now.
“Kim!” Angel’s hand shot out and took control of the steering wheel. “Please pay attention! It’s dangerous closing your eyes while driving!”
“I’m okay. It’s okay.”
Apparently not entirely reassured, Angel continued to watch her in silence.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I heard the news this morning,” Angel said.
Naomi paused in her work and looked up. Angel was standing just inside her office door, smirking and looking somewhat pleased with herself. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
“And?” Naomi prompted.
Angel’s grin widened. “I noticed you took my advice from our previous conversation.”
Naomi leapt to her feet. “What? Those are vile accusations! What makes you think I, or any of my minions, had anything to do with it?”
“The little details added up. Bank customers and employees were found plastered to the walls, reminiscent of your entangle weapons.”
“They’re called tanglers, I’ll have you know. And I know nothing about it!”
“Witnesses describe a woman leading them. Her profile matches your description.”
“Yes, yes.” Naomi resumed her seat, her voice neutral. “I’m certain that’s all very interesting, but surely you didn’t come all this way merely to fling baseless accusations? Did you have something of importance to say?”
Angel took two steps and placed both hands on Naomi’s desk. “I’ve come with a message. My final preparations are complete. You want the sex toy? Drop whatever you have planned for today and come to Ravenwood. You’ll find it there.”
Naomi recognized the name at once, but gave no outward sign. She leaned back and placed both hands behind her head in her most casual look. “Ravenwood?” she mused, doing her best to avoid appearing surprised, shocked, horrified, or any combination of the three. “What an unusual name. What is this ‘Ravenwood’ of which you speak?”
“Ravenwood is a very specific city that happens to be important to your people.”
“You must be mistaken,” Naomi obfuscated, taking a moment to examine the fingernails of her left hand. “How could an obscure town out in the middle of nowhere, of no importance whatsoever, be of importance to me?”
“I’ve said enough. Bring Melanie with you, and dress accordingly.”
Naomi blinked. “Melanie?”
“She’s the woman who—”
“I know who she is!” Naomi snapped. “Why should I bring her with me? Why should I go at all? Ravenwood has nothing to do with what we discussed yesterday. Now, you answer my questions. I’ve allowed you the extra time necessary to consult your so-called expert. What were you able to discover?”
“Come to Ravenwood, and those questions will be answered. I intend to solve all your problems.”
With that final, chilling threat of goodwill and assistance, Angel left the room. Naomi watched her go, crossing her arms in a huff, then re-crossing them to fully convey her frustration.
This was certainly an interesting development. How much was she willing to trust Angel? Did she even have a choice?
She brightened. No. No, she didn’t have a choice! Not having a choice was actually kind of liberating, now that she thought about it.
If she had no freedom, no option but to investigate, the matter of trusting Angel or not wasn’t even an issue. Angel had outmaneuvered her. The threat of discovery at Ravenwood could not be ignored, even if she were of a mind to ignore it.
Naomi certainly had nothing to lose by complying. Her own plans had stalled. Melanie had been making herself scarce, and Angel’s love-is-the-answer solution had been cryptic at best. What else was there to do?
I’d best get started.
Naomi spent ten minutes making all the necessary preparations. Weapons. Minions. Transportation. Everything was in readiness.
Well, most everything.
Naomi hadn’t talked to Melanie since Saturday night. Hopefully, she’d remember her promise to help, even if she wasn’t at all interested in a romantic future.
Sadness gripped her heart and squeezed. If only things had been different. If only Melanie hadn’t rejected the idea of dating so thoroughly.
Through an effort of will, Naomi regained her composure. No use crying over spilled milk. Let someone else clean up the mess.
Melanie wasn’t hard to track down. The breakroom was filled with employees doing their best to murder time with idle conversation. Melanie sat with three other office workers whose names Naomi had never bothered to remember.
Their presence presented a problem. How best to capture Melanie’s attention while maintaining the utmost subtlety?
“Melanie, please come to my office for a moment,” she called. “I need to talk to you about what happened between us last Saturday night.”
Conversation stopped. All eyes turned to Melanie. More than half the people grinned, as if amused by something.
Not interested in office politics, Naomi turned on her heel and left. She heard Melanie murmur some vague excuse before hurrying to follow.
“Was that your idea of being subtle?” she asked.
“Effective, wasn’t it?” Naomi said proudly. “Did you like it?”
“I’d say there’s room for improvement. Care to tell me what this is about?”
Naomi opened her office doors and ushered the blonde woman inside. “Would you be interested in taking the rest of the week off and spending it with me?”
Melanie froze, then shook her head with a gentle smile.
“Does that mean no?”
“Care to share some details?
”
Naomi lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Details weren’t her strong suit. “There’s not much more I can say about it,” she said at last. “We’d be going to an out-of-the-way location which is currently undergoing extensive renovations. It will eventually become a major tourist destination, but not for several months yet. We’d be free to do whatever we want.”
“The entire week?”
“For now, yes. Perhaps more. Perhaps less. At least two days.”
“Where would we be staying?” Melanie asked, still sounding wary.
The question surprised her. That’s right! Humans require sleeping arrangements.
What would Melanie need? Or, more accurately, what would she expect?
Naomi silently berated herself for not anticipating the problem. Half the things at her apartment were there merely for the sake of appearances, props to avoid suspicion. She owned a king-sized bed that had never been slept in. The refrigerator and all the kitchen cabinets were loaded down with unnecessary foodstuffs and cooking utensils, none of which she’d ever intended to use.
The brownies Naomi had baked to poison her boss had been the only exception, although it might have been more accurate to label the project a science experiment than a cooking project.
“I’ll arrange a room for us at a local motel,” Naomi said, taking advantage of the knowledge she’d picked up about motels and their purpose from a previous discussion. “We’ll spend the night there.”
Melanie raised her eyebrows, apparently not particularly reassured. “We?”
“Of course.” Naomi pushed her glasses up slightly. “Naturally, I was referring to both of us. You and I will be sleeping together. There’s nothing at all unusual about it.”
“In the same room,” Melanie said, without inflection.
“In the same room, yes,” Naomi agreed. “I don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t.”
“You’re presuming a lot.”
Presuming?
Naomi did her best to quell any outward signs of panic. Melanie had accused her of presuming. That meant she hadn’t been convinced at all! What had gone wrong? What had she missed?
There had to be a way to salvage the situation, to turn things around. If Melanie realized that Naomi wasn’t human and didn’t need to sleep, it could only end in disaster. Should she try to reiterate her previous point with different words? Deny she’d done anything unusual at all?
What about the truth?
The truth. Yes . . . yes, that could work! The renaissance genius Leonardo da Vinci was said to have slept fifteen minutes in every four hours. Naomi had no intention of claiming the same, but she could use the famous painter’s example to subtly insert the notion that humans occasionally slept odd hours. Once this was established, Melanie would conclude that Naomi’s own relatively odd sleeping habits were within acceptable human norms.
The key was not to spring everything on her at once. Her assertions would have to be subtle. Tighten the noose gradually.
Her plan of action established, Naomi’s lips curled upward in a grin of reassurance meant to diminish potential resistance. “If you do choose to sleep with me, I want you to know that”—Naomi leaned closer—“I don’t plan on doing a lot of sleeping.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. “That’s . . . unexpected.”
Unexpected? Naomi was again thrown off stride. “There’s nothing at all unusual about it.”
“Oh. Of course,” Melanie said.
Once again, Naomi was torn with indecision. Melanie’s words seemed reassuring, as if she’d accepted Naomi’s assertions, but she still seemed doubtful.
What additional reassurances would prove beneficial? Which facts would best reassure her? What else would Melanie want to know?
She thought of her own unused bed, and the answer came to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll ensure the bed will be large enough for both of us.”
Melanie looked away, shaking her head.
But Naomi noticed the telltale signs. Melanie was attempting to hide a smile. She couldn’t help but smile in return. Success! Her efforts had paid off.
“All this time, I wasn’t sure you were interested,” Melanie said.
“Oh, I’m very interested.”
“Sounds like a perfect romantic getaway.”
Naomi smiled wistfully. That hadn’t occurred to her, but it did sound like a romantic getaway, didn’t it? “Yes, it does.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
After returning from Brookings, Angel had delayed their trip only long enough to purchase a Teriyaki Chicken sandwich from Subway. She left it unopened on the back seat. When Kim asked her about it, she’d simply smiled.
They passed cornfield after cornfield, each identical to the last. After an hour, Angel had Kim take a side road she might otherwise have never seen. Other drivers became less and less common. There were no signs indicating how far they had yet to travel. They simply arrived.
Angel had Kim guide her Corolla into a vast, empty parking lot that could have accommodated hundreds of vehicles with room to spare. From what she could tell, half the town of Ravenwood was in a state of neglect and disrepair. Nothing stood taller than three stories.
“Charming,” Kim remarked.
“It has its purpose.” Angel retrieved the sandwich and closed the door behind her.
Kim was about to reply when she caught sight of an elderly man approaching them from one of the outlying buildings. He wore an assortment of filthy, ragged clothes that made her wonder if a local farmer’s scarecrow had been robbed.
A horrid stench preceded his arrival by several seconds, reminding Kim of an open sewer. “You need to leave,” he said.
Angel approached with the sandwich; the old man’s eyes lit up. He accepted the offering, gingerly unwrapped the contents, and attempted to cram nearly a third of it into his mouth.
“What can you tell us about this place?” Angel asked.
“Right.” The man blissfully chewed, swallowed, and wiped a filthy hand across his mouth. “Let’s get this over with. What do you want to know? I’m thinking local legends. Am I right?”
Kim tried to keep what she hoped to be a respectable distance and breathed through her mouth. “You know him?” she asked, glancing at Angel.
“We’ve met,” Angel confirmed. “Kim, I’d like to introduce you to Old Man Gunther. He’s been living in one of the abandoned, outlying houses for—”
“I can talk, you know,” he interrupted, somewhat perturbed.
“Sorry.”
Kim raised an eyebrow. “Old Man Gunther? That’s your name?”
Old Man Gunther smiled a smile that would never be associated with a toothpaste commercial. “Yeah. That’s me. So, what’s your story? You after the treasure? Well, I’ll tell you right now, missy, you might as well give it up. You’ll never get your hands on it.”
“Treasure? What treasure?”
He made a sweeping gesture to the road beyond. “You should leave,” he said. “Go on, get out. Leave while you still can!”
Apparently satisfied that he’d sufficiently warned Kim of her imminent peril, he bit off another hefty bite of his sandwich, his steely gray eyes half-lidded in bliss.
Kim nudged Angel with her elbow. “What’s he talking about?”
“I’m not finished.” Old Man Gunther took another bite, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed. “Legend time. Years ago, the entire city got wiped out inna flood. Everyone left, but not . . .” He hesitated, then scratched his head and continued. “But not this world-class treasure hunter. Hanks, or Hank, or some such.”
“Preston Hanks,” Angel offered.
Old Man Gunther cradled the remnants of his precious sandwich to his chest and pointed his free hand at Angel. “Yeah, that’s him. So, anyways, Hank was a treasure hunter. Turns out some nameless, infamous bank robber back in the day hid his fortune in Ravenwood somewhere before the cops caught him and hauled his ass to jail. They say Hank found where he hid the stash, but that’s when
the flood happened. No one’s ever seen him again.”
Kim could only stare.
“Hanks,” Angel corrected. “And?”
“And what?”
“What about the ghost?”
Old Man Gunther rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered, “can’t forget the ghost.” He popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, crumpled the wrapping into a small ball, and tossed it over his left shoulder. “So, anyways, legend has it the ghost of Preston Hanks still haunts the town. More of a monster than an actual ghost, if you ask me. Seems he can’t cross over ‘cause he can’t make himself leave his money behind. That’s why no one’s come rebuilt the town. They’re all too scared.”
“Why are you here?” Kim asked.
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“If everyone is scared of the monster, why are you here? Aren’t you scared, too?”
Old Man Gunther drew himself up to his full five-foot height. “Hell no! I ain’t scared of anything!”
Angel broke in. “The ghost allows Gunther to stay because his dire warnings drive away potential treasure seekers.”
Kim looked to Old Man Gunther for confirmation.
He shrugged. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Anyway,” Angel said, “that’s the legend.”
“So, we done here?” Old Man Gunther clapped his hands together, then vigorously waved away the cloud of dirt from his face. The imperious, outraged look returned. “Go! Get out while you still can!”
“You said that already,” Kim said.
“And you’re still here!”
“Good point,” she admitted.
Angel ushered Kim down the abandoned city streets. They soon left Old Man Gunther far behind.
Kim could barely contain herself until they were out of earshot. “What did you do, Angel?”
Angel folded her arms and managed to look mildly insulted. “I conducted research,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “I believe the aliens are directly responsible for the new construction projects.”
