Earthbound Bones: An Earthbound Novel (The Psychic Seasons Series Book 5)

by ReGina Welling

  “I’ve got lemonade.”

  “That’ll do.”

  Adriel stepped over the long legs kicked out in front of him to go inside and pour them both a glass. She took her time, giving him a chance to rest and regain his breath. Besides, she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. Telling him the details of finding his wife after her brutal attack didn’t rate anywhere on her list of fun things to do.

  He took the tall glass of lemonade and drank gratefully.

  “I’d like to thank you for what you did for Lydia.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Ed snorted. “Appreciate that. Lydia wasn’t well liked around town. I know that. She knew it, too. She liked things to be just so, and didn’t much care whether it was her business to judge others for not feeling the same; but she meant well. In her own way.”

  While Adriel wondered how he had found the strength to walk here, and whether it would be polite to ask, she let him ramble on about Lydia until he was back on more stable footing.

  “Tell me how you found her.”

  Adriel’s brain immediately supplied the truth. She’d been guided to Lydia by the voice of one of her former colleagues. Estelle refused to admit it straight out, but it wasn’t much of a stretch to fill in the blanks. However, blurting out the truth wouldn’t be her best choice, and every attempt at prevaricating had failed. She faced a dilemma.

  “Destiny.” It sounded lame to her, even though the answer had an odd effect on him. Sighing, his shoulders lost the tenseness that had kept them pinched slightly together, and he relaxed. What was that all about? Did he have something to hide?

  “She’d only been gone from the house for a short time. You didn’t hear anything? See anyone?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I told Zack everything. I wish I could be more help.” This man, one who by all accounts had been bedridden for months, still managed to make his way here today. Maybe he’d done it before. Not for the first time—or even the hundredth—Adriel wished for her powers back. One quick probe would reveal Edward’s every secret.

  Not that she would employ that method now. In her time among them, Adriel had begun to learn why every human kept secrets. When your soul is caught between the light and the dark, sometimes the dark wins. Oh, not always in the bigger ways, but those split-second impulses when spite overcomes charitable thought and vitriol spews out on someone who didn’t deserve it. Or when temptation pulls and sucks away common sense. Most of those secrets are spawned in arrogance and concealed in shame. Without transgression, there was no way to understand redemption. These lies and regrets were all part of growing.

  Adriel suspected Lydia’s death was part of Ben’s story. What if she’d been wrong all this time, and the two deaths were unrelated? Edward sneaking around after dark and letting people think he was incapacitated was shadier than the dappled light underneath a weeping willow.

  “…thought of her lying there alone and in pain, even for a few minutes, is intolerable.”

  “If it helps, I didn’t sense she was in any discomfort.”

  He wanted to believe. Everything about him reached toward that ideal like a flower trying to touch the sun. “You can’t know that.”

  Actually, she could. But she wasn’t about to explain how she came by her information, so she patted his arm in sympathy. Her touch unlocked the floodgates, and he started to talk about his wife. He painted a very different picture from the one Pam had given Adriel.

  It hadn’t been malice behind Lydia reporting her neighbor for building a temporary lean-to shed to cover his lawn tractor for the winter—the man hadn’t hired an architect to design the structure. Surely it would fall on him, and it was Lydia’s civic duty to protect the poor wight from his own folly. The eyesore of a boulder in their lower field had nothing to do with her reasons for digging a half mile-long, unnecessary ditch. The new in-ground pool two doors farther up the hill might rupture, and all those gallons of water needed somewhere to go. Why, she was only protecting the town from a deluge. It was nothing more than solid common sense.

  Every time Adriel felt an eyebrow raising incredulously, she forced it back down. Even a not-quite human with very little experience in day-to-day living could see through these excuses like they were made of glass. After her death, even Lydia realized it was hogwash. Nevertheless, Adriel let him wind down until he’d talked himself out; plied him with sympathy and two more glasses of lemonade.

  “So, you see, she was misunderstood at every turn. My wife was a good woman who only…”

  “Shame how they found that boy buried out here, don’t you think?” Adriel cut him off mid-sentence with no regret for being rude, then intently watched him form a response. Strong emotion flickered across his face. Not guilt. Guilt was too strong a word. Adriel decided it was remorse. He chose his next words carefully.

  “The whole town searched for him for weeks. When nothing turned up, talk turned ugly. People figured he’d run away from home. I never bought that story. The Allens were decent folk. Not the kind a young boy would take to the streets to get away from, you know? But, people talked. Before long, there was speculation about abuse. Funny how people take to whatever suggestion comes up—after a month or so, someone called in the state. Instead of helping with the search, they sent social services.”

  Someone? Oh, I wonder who that might have been, Adriel thought sarcastically. “The results?”

  “Nothing. There was nothing to find. The daughter went up one side of the social worker and down the other about how her parents never raised a hand to her or her brother, and how he would never leave his happy family. Fiery little thing. From what I heard, she backed that social worker into a corner.”

  My heart went out to Pam and her family. First to lose their son so mysteriously, then to be investigated for allegations that cast doubt on the family—whether disproved or not.

  “And no one noticed a freshly dug grave when it was right out in plain sight? How could they not?”

  “Well, you see, back in those days, there was a stand of pine trees running on the property line between this place and ours. Big bone of contention between Lydia and Craig when she proved they were straddling the line and had them cut down.” Judging from his chagrined expression, the trees had probably been Craig’s all along. “That must have been six or seven years ago, now,” Ed mused.

  “So the grave would have been hidden by the lower branches?”

  “Must have been hard work digging under there, but easy to conceal. Sweep the downed pine spills out of the way, then when it’s all over, brush them back and no one would ever notice. Poor fella so close all these years. Not two miles away from his parents, and they never knew. What’s the world coming to?”

  “History is rife with accounts of how badly people treat each other. Every generation thinks theirs is the worst. They’re almost never right.” Adriel knew this for a fact. “Ed, forgive me for asking such a personal question, but how is it that everyone thinks you’re bedridden and here you are, clearly,” Adriel waved a hand at him, “not.”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “I don’t lie.” Can’t would have been the more correct term.

  “Fair enough. Everyone will find out soon enough, anyway. I wanted a vacation. Town politics can be so draining. After my heart attack, I thought I could do with a little less stress.”

  “How’s that working out for you?” Adriel couldn’t resist needling him a little. Ed’s expression darkened.

  “I’ll just be on my way. Once again, I’d like to thank you for everything you did for Lydia. And for the lemonade.” Cane thumping across the porch, Ed took his leave. Adriel watched the pinpoint of light until it was no longer visible before going back inside.

  Chapter Eleven

  “One of those strawberry cream-filled donuts and a cup of decaf.” Adriel looked up to see a vision in white. Colonel Sanders style—complete with mustache, Panama hat, cane, and neck scarf. Kind eyes tw
inkled under bushy brows over a disarming smile. “You’re new. I’ve never seen you here before.” Adriel judged it would take at least fifteen years before he aged into being a dead ringer for the chicken guru. This man was still in the early salt and pepper stage.

  “I’m Adriel.”

  “And you can forget hitting on her, you old rogue,” Pam swung in from the back to tease her long-time customer. “She’s got better sense than to be taken in by the likes of you.” To Adriel, she said, “This is William Dooley. He’s not half as charming as he likes to think.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Adriel offered her hand in the traditional greeting, only to have him turn it over gently and kiss the back of it—the mustache bristled across her skin. Not as soft as it looks, she thought.

  “Call me Bill.”

  Mr. Dooley carried his donut and coffee to the table by the window. Adriel felt his eyes resting on her from time to time while he ate slowly and with great relish. She didn’t blame him; Wiletta made the strawberry cream from scratch. Eating one of those donuts was an extremely pleasurable experience.

  Questions trembled on his tongue. The only one that made it to the surface was, “How do you find our little town, Adriel.” He softened the A to an ah sound and rolled the R to make her name sound more exotic than it already was. “Quieter than where you’re from?”

  “Longbrook is a lovely place. I’ve grown quite fond of it over the past few weeks.” Adriel deflected his attempt to pry information from her with a smile. “Did you grow up here?”

  A shadow of strong emotion flitted over his features. If she hadn’t been watching closely, she probably would have missed it. “Until I ran away to join the circus.”

  “The circus?” she repeated.

  “Well, not exactly, but close. The rodeo came to town when I was but a callow youth with a few indiscretions in my past. I talked my way onto a bronc and found I had a knack for floating.” A quirk of regret twisted his lips. “Sometimes running away is the same as running toward—if you get what I mean. My short career ended when I got freight-trained by a bull. Busted a hip that never healed right.”

  “Sounds like quite a story. Maybe you’ll tell me about it in more detail sometime.” She could relate to his logic when it came to running in any direction.

  Pam called through from the kitchen. “Pry the top off that can of worms, and you’ll be up to your ears in slimy wigglers before you can say ‘rodeo clown’.”

  “Pipe down back there. It’s not every day I get a set of new ears to bend with stories from my illustrious past.” Bill softened the words with a smile.

  “Tall tales, every one of them.” Pam’s voice held a hint of fondness. She stepped out of the kitchen to round the counter with a new pot of decaf. Bill’s shoulders raised under the padded white of his suit jacket. Pam lifted the pot in an offer to top off his mug, but Bill laid a hand over it with a small shake of his head.

  “Places to be.” He turned to Adriel, “Miss Adriel, it was truly a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around.” He gulped the last of the coffee before making his way out the door.

  She watched him pass by the window, leaning heavily on a polished black cane to help correct his uneven gait. Pam stepped up beside her to speak out of the corner of her mouth, “It’s his story to tell—not that he’s apt to trot the sordid parts of it out for you—but the way I heard it, it was more than a love for horses that dragged him out of town.” Her cryptic comment piqued Adriel’s interest, even though she preferred not to indulge in idle gossip. A short war between doing the right thing and prying information from Pam raged through her. Now she understood how easy it was to give in to temptation. The desire to hear everything Pam had to say was almost as strong as her distaste for talking about someone behind their back.

  Pam’s next words clinched Adriel’s descent into sin.

  “He left right after my brother went missing.” A prickle of awareness raised gooseflesh on Adriel’s arms. This was information she needed to hear. Pam had touched on the tragedy before. Now, Adriel hoped for more detail.

  “Biggest mystery in Longbrook. My little brother went out for a ride on his bike and never returned. He was eight years old. Cute as a button and so sweet.” Sorrow picked out the lines in Pam’s face as she talked. “You hear about sibling rivalry, but for Ben and me it was never like that. The whole town searched for him for days. Weeks, really. No trace was ever found. After a while, the rumors started flying. He’d run away because my parents were abusing him; my mother killed him with a rolling pin and buried him in her tulip bed; and my personal favorite—I dared him to spend a night in the caves and he got lost.” Adriel’s intake of breath over this bit of cruelty was audible. Sneering scorn colored Pam’s next words. “My father wanted to move away, but my mother and I were adamant we had to stay in case Bennie Boy ever came back. The stress took a toll on them both. I don’t remember either of them ever smiling much after we lost him. It feels surreal to me knowing I don’t have to wait anymore.”

  “What do you remember about that day?”

  “I was grounded for fighting with my mother.”

  Adriel led Pam to a table. “Tell me everything. You’ll feel better.”

  “It’s funny. I’d forgotten until just now, but Bill was partly responsible for me getting into trouble. My best friend had this huge crush on him, and found out he and three of his buddies were planning a fishing trip up at the lake. Not that they’d have been doing any fishing. Everyone knew the only thing they ever pulled out of the water on those trips was another beer.”

  Confusion beetled Adriel’s brows.

  “Put the bottles in an old fishing trap and submerge it in the water. Keeps the beer cold.” Pam explained, “Anyway, Sylvia talked me into playing the sleepover game with our folks. I’d say I was staying at her house; she’d say she was staying at mine; and we’d hitch a ride up to the lake to crash the fishing trip.”

  “I take it the ruse was ineffective.”

  “My mother called Sylvia’s mother and we both got busted. Probably for the best anyway. Bill had a girlfriend, and, from what I heard, she was in trouble when he suddenly felt the lure of the rodeo. Might not have been true, though, since nine months came and went and there was no baby. Around this town, you can only believe half of what you hear and then you need to take that with a grain of salt.”

  “How far away is the lake?”

  “Ten minute drive over a dirt road, if the weather’s been dry. A little longer during rainy weather, or in spring when there are a lot of potholes. Why?”

  “Just curious. Which direction is the lake? ”

  Pam’s eyes widened. “It’s up past the cabin. You really did land here right out of the blue, didn’t you?”

  “Something like that. Are all four of these men still living in the area?”

  “Bill’s still here; Graham Brier went off to college and got a job at an Internet startup right before it went big. I think he lives in Seattle now. Levi Hartman went into the Army and got himself killed in Afghanistan, which leaves Damien Oliver, who moved back to town last fall. You’ve met him, he runs the garage at the end of the street—eats lunch here every day.”

  Adriel filed the information away for future reference. She’d already spoken to Bill, and would make it a point to have a longer conversation with Damien. “I really am sorry for your loss.” Adriel knew how lame the words sounded.

  Pam’s breath hitched, “Thirty years of not knowing he was right there the whole time. Two miles away from home. I thought it would feel different, you know? I thought finally learning what happened to him would be enough. I never expected to have to look at everyone I’ve known my whole life and wonder which one of them was the scumbag who killed my brother and didn’t have the guts to come forward.”

  “Zack’s a good cop. He’ll get justice for Ben.”

  “He’ll try, but he doesn’t have a history here. I’m going to figure it out on my own.” No one could be more
devoted to solving the mystery than she would. Pam had no idea how invested Adriel was in securing Ben’s future.

  “I’ll help.”

  “What?” Pam seemed skeptical.

  “People talk to me. Since I’m new here, they all want to tell me their version of what happened back then. Maybe if we compare everyone’s stories, we’ll learn something new. For instance, he asked me not to say anything, but Edward showed up at my place last night.”

  “No.” Pam pulled out a rag to wipe down the table. “Wait, isn’t he bedridden?”

  “Apparently not.” Adriel recounted the conversation, complete with her impression that Ed hadn’t been entirely truthful with her.

  “If I’m right, the person who buried your brother has already killed again to keep his or her secret. Do you think it’s safe for you to pry into the past like that?”

  From the look on Pam’s face, she hadn’t put it together.

  “Ooh, you mean Lydia. I thought you had a theory about her being killed to stop the ditch.” Then it hit her, “Oh, you think whoever bashed her wanted to stop the ditch from going any further in order to keep Ben’s bones from coming to light.“

  “The thought had occurred to me.” Adriel’s deadpan delivery made Pam lean back in her chair. She ran a hand through her disordered hair while it all fell into place. After a few moments of silence, she cast an enigmatic look at Adriel.

  “You’re hiding something from me. If you knew this was a possibility two weeks ago, then you had to have inside information.” Watching Pam’s attitude go from friendly to distrustful caused Adriel’s stomach to drop into her shoes.

  “There’s…it’s complicated.”

  Saved by the tinkling bell, Adriel hurried to wait on Mrs. Donato, who managed to collar Pam and cluck over the gruesome discovery. Finally escaping to the kitchen, Pam gave Adriel a pointed look that clearly said this talk wasn’t over.

  ***

  It came as no shock to Adriel when Pam burst through the cabin door ten minutes after Just Desserts closed for the day. She already had tea brewing—the loose type this time, not the kind in bags—and a pot of something called corn chowder on the stove. Having perused the many cookbooks left by Craig, it seemed the one recipe too easy for her to screw up.