by Deirdre Dore
One day, he will bury you in a place like this, and you’ll deserve it.
27
TWO DAYS LATER, early on Tuesday morning, Tyler stopped by Aspect, the shop owned by Jane Arrowdale, and carefully opened the door. He wasn’t on duty for a couple hours, but he hadn’t been able to sleep, and he’d wanted to talk to Jane. The bell rang as cheerfully as ever when he entered, but Jane didn’t swoop over to him in one of her strange witch outfits as she normally would. Instead, he was greeted by the crisp voice of Old Ninny, who was sitting behind her small table as usual, tarot cards spread out in front of her, her mouth a grim line.
“What can I help you with, Investigator Downs?” the old woman asked without looking up.
“Well, ma’am.” Tyler took a seat next to her, adjusting his utility belt so his gun wasn’t digging into his waist. He didn’t understand why women insisted on this small-ass furniture. “I was wondering a few things, actually.”
Ninny grunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“First off”—Tyler looked around—“where’s Jane?”
Ninny shrugged. “She’s either run off somewhere with her husband for a while, or she’s run off for good.”
“Are the girls okay?”
“They’re fine. They’re with me when their mom’s not around.”
Tyler leaned forward a little. “You aren’t worried about Jane?”
Old Ninny leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “She’s a woman grown. She wants to hang around with that scat, that’s her business.”
“She could be hurt, kidnapped—”
“She ain’t,” the old woman cut him off.
“How do you know?” Tyler wasn’t sure why he even bothered to ask. He knew what the old woman would say, or wouldn’t say, as the case may be.
Her eyes twinkled at him a little. “You manage it pretty well, after living here so long. Not everyone can accept that strange things happen in this town without actually believing there’s such things as witches or magic or fate.”
Tyler mentally sighed. It wasn’t an answer, but it was about all the answer he’d expected. “I have another question, this one’s about the past.”
Old Ninny studied him, searching his face, but after a moment she nodded. “All right, then, go on.”
“What do you remember about when Summer disappeared?”
The old woman sighed. “Ahh, that was a long time ago.”
“Did you know her well?”
“Hmm.” She waved a hand. “I hate to say I barely paid attention to the girl. My husband was dying, sick with diabetes, in pain as he went blind and his nerves died. I spent most of my time tending to him.” She shook her head regretfully. “Girl ran wild, really, but she had her friends and seemed happy enough.”
“What about Jane, didn’t she take care of her?”
Ninny sighed and rocked against her chair a little, as if she were used to sitting in a rocking chair. “In an offhand way, Jane’s always been fascinated by Jane.” Her expression darkened. “Until that husband of hers came along. Then she didn’t have time for anyone else.”
“You don’t like him. You said in your statement at the time that if they wanted to know who killed Summer, they should look to Jane’s husband.”
Ninny eyed him. “I know what I said. You goin’ to listen or quote my words back to me?”
Tyler realized he’d broken his first rule of talking to women: let ’em talk and they’ll tell you everything.
“Sorry.”
“ ’S all right.” She settled back. “I remember what I said, but I don’t know for sure. He’s an evil man, but I never saw him lay a hand on the girl. Didn’t even seem to notice her.”
Tyler thought about that. “How did Jane and Mark meet?”
Ninny scowled. “He came to the house, all slicked up in a suit. He wanted to buy our land to the north. Said they were going to put in a golf course. While he was there, he mentioned that he thought Jane was the most beautiful woman in the world, or so she said.”
Ninny snorted, indicating what she thought about that idea.
“Did you ever see Gloria Belle Weaver, Raquel’s mom, with them?”
“Sometimes,” she agreed, her voice sad. “Now, there’s one who let herself fall by the wayside.”
Tyler wanted to ask her about the drinking and shouting his uncle had mentioned, but he wasn’t sure he entirely trusted her. The Havens might have started mixing in with the town after Summer died, but they were a solitary family, mostly content to solve their own problems.
“So what would they do? This town doesn’t have much in the way of entertainment.”
“They’d go to the cabin on Tavey’s property sometimes, her granddaddy’s hunting cabin. Sometimes they would take a car and go somewhere out of town or to Atlanta, but I don’t know whose car it was. It might have been Jane’s husband’s. I never cared to ask.”
“They went on Collins property without permission?” Tavey would hate that, Tyler thought mildly.
Ninny waved a hand. “I don’t think they asked, but I’m betting someone over there knew what was going on. Maybe not Mr. Collins, but somebody knew.”
Tyler thought that was really interesting. He wondered what Bessie or Atohi, the servants who’d worked for the Collinses the longest, would have to say if he pressed them about the old hunting cabin.
“I do know that whatever they were doing, they made some money at it.”
“Money?” Tyler listened more closely.
“After her husband left, after Summer disappeared, how do you think Jane got the money for this shop?”
Tyler had never thought about it. He’d assumed they’d sold land or magic beans or something.
“Money,” he repeated.
“Yes, indeed. Now, you through asking questions?”
Tyler scratched his head and stood. “For the time being. If you think of anything else, can you call me over at the Canton sheriff’s office?”
“I surely will,” she agreed.
Tyler started to leave, but she stopped him, her finger on one of her tarot cards.
“I’m real sorry about your uncle,” she said after a brief pause, seeming to frame her words very carefully. “I hate that he was cursed with such a fate.”
Tyler frowned. Did everyone in town know his uncle had cancer? “Thank you, ma’am. He’s a fighter, though.”
“That he was,” she agreed. “You be safe out there.”
Tyler nodded, vaguely uneasy without knowing exactly why.
Out on the sidewalk, he took a deep breath, trying to clear his nose of the scents of amber and woodsmoke that had filled the store. The day was overcast, promising rain, but the air was still mild.
He glanced over at Dog with Two Bones—Tavey’s store. It was open. Betty, the grandmotherly woman with white hair, had opened it just before he’d gone in to talk to Ninny. She’d smiled at him.
Tyler knew that Tavey usually took care of the store herself on Tuesdays, but he supposed she still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent after her little adventure in the woods. He scowled, thinking about the conversation they’d had in her bedroom. He’d reached out to her, told her about his conversation with his uncle, and she’d rebuffed him.
He didn’t believe for one second that she’d just been checking on a dog. She’d been searching for something in particular; he just had to get her to open up to him. No easy task since he hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat for her conversation all these years.
A motion in the window of her store caught his eye. He looked more closely and saw that it was Tavey standing in the window, frozen like a mannequin while she stared at him. She was holding what looked like a small white flagpole and had clearly been about to change the decorations in the front window.
Tyler waved at her, not a
demanding wave, not a come-outside wave, just hello. He didn’t remember ever greeting her so simply.
She considered him solemnly for a moment, but then a small smile quirked up one side of her mouth.
She disappeared from the front window and reappeared at the door, opening it and easing down the handful of steps. He hurried over to offer her a hand, not wanting her to fall and twist her ankle again.
“Thanks.”
He nodded, not wanting to release her fingers, but not quite ready for the gossip that would start if he held hands with her as they walked through the center of town.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked finally. “I have a favor to ask.”
She looked even more surprised than she had when she’d seen him in the window. “A favor?”
He nodded. He understood her confusion. The only thing he’d ever asked her for was to leave his uncle alone. He’d actually made of point of refusing her help whenever possible.
“I’ve had breakfast,” she said, “but I could use another cup of coffee.” Her brown eyes twinkled at him hesitantly, as if she expected him to mock her.
He wished he hadn’t said so many things to hurt her in the past. He hadn’t really thought he’d been hurting her. Hadn’t really thought she could be hurt by someone like him.
THE COFFEE SHOP was small, in between the Alcove, one of the only restaurants in town, and the bakery.
He opened the door for her and she limped carefully inside. She was holding herself tensely as well, her shoulders tight. He wasn’t sure if that was because he was with her or because her head still hurt from her fall.
“Why don’t you get us a table.” He indicated a small two-top by the window. “I’ll get the coffee.”
“Thanks. I like sugar and cream.”
Tyler nodded; he knew that. Sometimes she’d be getting coffee when he stopped by in the morning on the way to the sheriff’s office in Canton. He’d listen to her order in her clear, crisp voice, and then watch as she’d turn and notice him. Her chin would lift, her shoulders square, as if she were preparing for a battle.
“Hey, Belinda,” he greeted the woman behind the counter. She was a local. Her father owned the organic grocery store and farmers’ market in town.
“Hey, Tyler.” She glanced behind him over at Tavey, raising one eyebrow as if to say, Since when do you drink coffee with Tavey Collins? She didn’t say it, though. No one wanted to offend Tavey.
“You both want the usual?” She was already pulling down two large cups, her dark-skinned hands moving with the ease of long practice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, stuffing a couple dollars in her tip jar and getting out a five to pay for the coffees.
“You’re too sweet to me,” she told him with a bright smile as she filled the cups three-quarters full and placed them in front of him.
“I couldn’t get through my day without you, Belinda,” he said honestly. The coffee at the station tasted like there was algae growing inside the pot.
He walked over to the small station that held napkins, carafes of milk, sugar packets, and stir sticks, and loaded up both coffees with sugar and two percent milk. Walking back to the table, he noticed that people were watching them, even the college students, who usually didn’t have a clue about the locals. The coffee shop was half full, they’d missed the morning rush when everyone who worked in the circle stopped by for a cup of coffee before opening their shops. Most of the students were studying, books and laptops open in front of them while they sipped coffee as if it were the miracle that would get them through their tests in one piece. They usually didn’t pay him much attention, but he was wearing his uniform. He didn’t wear it most days, but he had court again this afternoon.
He set Tavey’s coffee down in front of her and took his seat. There was an awkward pause as they both struggled with the unfamiliarity of the situation.
Tavey was wearing a bright blue shirt with a collar, her dark hair down around her shoulders. She wore little makeup, and in the hazy gray light shining in through the window, her skin appeared to glow. Tyler swallowed.
“How’s your stepdaughter? Your mom?”
Once Tyler would have sneered at her for making polite chitchat, but her curious expression indicated that she was really interested, so he relaxed.
“They’re fine. Mom decided to get a job at the Dollar Store in Canton.”
“That’s good.” Tavey nodded. “Is she enjoying it?”
Tyler knew that Tavey managed several businesses and probably had as much money as the enterprising soul who had invented the Dollar Store. He thought she couldn’t possibly appreciate what a challenge it had been for his mother to get a job. After years of abuse, she hadn’t thought anyone would hire her.
He didn’t think Tavey would understand, but that wasn’t her fault. She’d been born rich; that didn’t mean she intentionally lorded that fact over everyone.
“She seems to,” he said simply.
“That’s good.” She took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes a little at the taste of it. Belinda made damn good coffee. She set her cup down and laced her fingers together. “You said you had a favor to ask me?”
“Yeah. Christie, my stepdaughter, wanted to know if you’d help her train her dog, Grumbles, to track. Train her, too, I suppose, on how to follow.”
A small grin escaped Tavey. “You figured out the secret. It’s much harder to train the humans than the dogs most of the time.”
Tyler believed it. He grinned back at her. “Training humans is supposed to be my job—well, the troublemakers anyway.”
“You can keep it.” She nodded. “Most of the ones that come to me for help are reasonably well behaved.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if you can train Christie, then. She’s a handful.”
Tavey rolled her eyes. “She can’t be any worse than the Triplets. If they do that creepy talk-at-the-same-time thing the entire time I’m training them, I’m going to lose it.”
“No, you won’t,” he said confidently. “You can handle a few smart-aleck teenagers.”
“Hmm.” Tavey made a noise that sounded like agreement and sipped her coffee again. “I’d be happy to train Christie and the Triplets together. I think they’d get along. I have a class scheduled in a few weeks. After school and on Saturdays. We can take some one-on-one time before that, though, if you want to bring Christie and her dog by my house tonight.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed.
The pleasant moment lingered between them. Tyler didn’t want to say anything else, for fear of ruining the moment. Tavey was talking to him, smiling at him the way she did when she spoke to Chris or Raquel. But the topics they needed to discuss—Summer’s case, the ribbon, the stories he’d heard from his uncle about her grandfather’s cabin—were rife with opportunities for argument.
Tavey sighed, setting her cup down again, her gaze soft with regret. “I hesitate to ask, but how is your uncle?”
Tyler felt himself stiffen, waiting for her to demand that he talk to his uncle again, for her to insist on questioning him herself.
When she didn’t say anything else, just sat with her shoulders tensed, he eased back and took her question at face value.
“He wasn’t doing too well on Sunday. I called him twice yesterday and once this morning, but he hasn’t answered.”
Tavey frowned. “Is that unusual?”
Tyler shook his head. “He doesn’t care much for the phone. It goes straight to voice mail so I’m betting it’s dead.”
A thought flickered across her face, but she didn’t say anything.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“What is it?”
She hesitated. “I know you’ll probably say no, but I could stop by on my way home this afternoon if you want. If I promise not to as
k him anything,” she elaborated.
Tyler’s initial reaction was astonishment with just a hint of suspicion. He swallowed the doubt, though, wanting to give her a chance. She was an honorable person. He’d seen her often enough with others to know that. She was irrational with his uncle because she’d loved her friend Summer. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted to tempt fate and send her rushing over to his uncle’s house. Even if she was perfectly calm and didn’t ask any questions, his uncle was likely to die of a heart attack at the sight of her.
“That’s okay,” he said carefully. “I appreciate it, though.”
She nodded. “We’re being pretty careful here. Why do you suppose that is?”
Tyler tried to pinpoint the moment when his feelings for her had started changing. He remembered last fall when Chris had been the target of a serial killer. Tavey had defended her friend, keeping the reporters away, and helped her get through the crisis with a calm steadiness. He’d seen that same strength when she’d helped the FBI team and the Atlanta Police Department locate the bodies of two missing girls using her tracking dogs. She hadn’t flinched during the search, or once they’d found the bodies, but he’d seen her afterward, hunched over the steering wheel of her car, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.
And then this past Sunday, he’d seen her fall apart over finding a ribbon she thought had belonged to her friend.
Prior to the past few months, he’d thought she was cold, vindictive, and superior. Or maybe he’d just wanted to believe that, needed to believe it. Because if she were truly loving and kind—and bossy and stubborn—he had no reason not to like her. No reason not to act on the electric attraction between them other than his own fear. He didn’t see what someone like her would want with him, but she hadn’t deserved how he’d treated her so far.
Maybe he’d used his uncle as an excuse to push her away, not let her get too close.
“I’m not sure,” he lied, “but I’d like to keep being careful with you, if that’s all right?”
