by Alice Sabo
“What a cool old house. Why would you live in a trailer if you had a place like that?” Asher commented.
“’Cause the roof leaks and the floors ain’t safe,” Jeff grumbled.
“You know who lives there?”
“I live there.”
“Oh.” Asher shut his mouth before he dug himself any deeper.
“Trailer’s got heat and AC,” Jeff said defensively.
“Well that’s important,” Asher responded lamely. He wasn’t sure how to get himself out of this new jam. He was greatly relieved when the stables finally came into view. “We’re here,” he said with an enthusiasm that got him another surly look from Jeff. “Want to come see the horses?”
Jeff gave him a disinterested shrug, but he followed along. Asher wasn’t sure of the protocol of entering the barn. Should he yell ahoy! Was there a bell to ring? Luckily someone must have seen them arrive because Ed was coming down the center aisle as they stepped into the barn.
“Asher, geez, I heard about the accident. You okay?”
Asher pointed at his battered face. “Good one, huh?”
Ed laughed. “You look like a raccoon.” Then he got serious. “Were you planning on riding today?”
“No, God no, I can barely walk.”
Ed nodded his understanding. “You get healed up before Darby gives you a new set of bruises.”
Asher smiled in resignation. “Great. Looking forward to that.” He glanced down the row of stalls. “I wanted to stop by and visit Darby. And introduce you to Jeff, my assistant.”
Jeff stood a little taller when Ed shook hands with him. “You’re a Cahill aren’t you?”
Jeff looked a little put off. “Yeah, why?”
“I buy my hay from Erwin. He your dad?”
“Uncle.”
“Strong family resemblance.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” Jeff said vaguely. Asher heard the defensiveness and decided to steer things elsewhere.
“Can I meet the other horses, too?” Asher asked. “I don’t want any of them to feel slighted.”
Ed laughed again. “All righty.” They made the rounds of the stalls, Ed formally introducing each horse. Asher patted noses and complimented them all.
“You got some good stock here,” Jeff said begrudgingly.
“They’re gorgeous,” Asher said. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “But I gotta say, Darby’s stunning.”
Ed beamed at them. “I’ve been grooming him for this for awhile. This’ll be his film debut.”
Asher felt a sudden twinge of responsibility, as if he was the leading man for a young ingénue. A first movie could make or break your career. That thought put him a little off kilter. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with helping along someone else’s career. Even if it was only a horse. “Well, I just wanted to visit. Don’t mean to take up your time.” Asher limped back down the aisle toward the parking lot. “Okay to come back tomorrow?”
Ed gave him a bemused smile. “Sure.”
“I’ll bring. . .sugar?”
“Carrots are better for them.”
“Right.”
Jeff hurried to the car. He’d already started it before Asher got in. “Why did you take me here?” he snarled.
Asher gave Jeff a baffled look. The kid was bright red with fury, his freckles even more pronounced. “You’ve got it backwards. You drove me here.”
“Whatever! Why?”
“Because I’m supposed to be riding every day, and I can’t until my ankle heals. I want the horses to get used to me being around them.”
“But why are you riding?”
“To get ready for the battle scenes,” Asher said carefully. He couldn’t imagine what had so enraged him.
Jeff blinked at him in surprise. “The horses are for the movie?”
Asher bit his lip to keep the smile off his face and nodded. “Why else would I be dragging myself up here?”
Jeff gave him an assessing once-over. “I wondered.”
“Hey, everything I do, every day till we’re done, will be about the movie. I’ll have riding and fencing lessons. Oscar’s going to get me ready for some stunts. I’ve got a trainer coming to beat me into shape for the shirtless love scenes. . .” Asher smiled at Jeff’s thoughtful expression. “If it were up to me, I’d be home building Lego castles with my son.”
“Huh.” Jeff was quiet, as he pulled out of the parking lot slowly. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper. “But you said you were like my mom.”
Jeff’s soft question struck a chord in Asher. The kid was confused and hurt. Asher didn’t know why or what trouble at home might have initiated this funk today, but the least he could do was answer his question. It might repair some of the unspecified damage between them. “I’m an addict like her, Jeff. Always will be. Doesn’t mean I can’t be more than that.”
He glanced over shyly. “Like what?” Jeff asked in that same wounded voice.
“Like a dad, a husband, a friend, an actor. . .” Asher sighed at the ache in Jeff’s eyes. “For awhile, I was just an addict. Pills and booze were my job, my hobby and my friends and family. That’s an ugly place to be. It’s a small world with you and your addictions at the center of it. I hurt a lot of people, some of them good friends. Now I have to work hard every day to make amends for everything, whether I remember it or not, because other people remember it all too well. And believe me, it shows up when I am least expecting it, so I have to be on my best behavior all the time. That’s where the rules come in. They help me figure out how to get through the day without getting in trouble.”
“Huh. And driving would get you in trouble?”
“Lost my license. That’s one of the rules. I don’t drive. Ever.”
“Huh.”
Asher couldn’t divine the sentiment in Jeff’s noncommittal grunt, but he felt that the atmosphere had cleared a bit. It might be time for another change in subject. “Don’t you like horses?”
“What?”
“Well you seemed a little upset about coming up here.”
“It’s nothing.”
Asher knew that was a flat-out lie, but it didn’t seem like the right time to push. He let it pass. They went back the way they came, passing the rundown house and trailer. “How long have you lived here?”
“In Jenkinsville? All my life.” The words came out sounding bitter and worn out, sentiments that ill-fitted a seventeen-year-old.
“Time to move on?”
“You got that right.”
“Culinary school?” Asher asked. That released the flood gates. Jeff talked nonstop about his classes, his school loans, the equipment he wanted to buy and how much he hated meringue.
They came around another curve and almost hit a parked car. Jeff slammed on the brakes throwing Asher against the seat belt and giving him a furious reminder him of all of his bruises.
“Ow!” Asher panted out the pain. His vision sparked as a wave of nausea rolled over him.
“What’s going on?” Jeff asked craning his neck. There were five vehicles parked along the side of the road, a couple rentals, but the rest had California license plates. People with clipboards and tablets milled around by the side of the road. Nothing but a sea of kudzu and brambles stretched away to a line of trees.
Asher recognized a certain hat on a man walking through the field. “That’s George.”
“Who’s George?”
“The director,” Asher said as he got out of the car. “Park it. I’ll introduce you.”
Asher limp-hopped over the uneven ground to catch up with George. Someone had hacked a couple of paths through the undergrowth leaving scattered piles of leafy remains. George was standing, hands on hips, glaring towards the trees. “Battlefield?” Asher asked.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” George said. He slowly turned in a circle. “I think the village can go under the trees. Wonder if there’s a brook?”
“No brook,” Jeff said as he came up beside Asher.
George questioned Asher with a raised eyebrow.
“This is Jeff. He’s my assistant and driver.”
Jeff looked startled when George offered his hand. He shook it with a bit too much enthusiasm making George’s hat slip forward a notch.
“So you know this area?” George asked.
“Uncle Erwin’s land.”
“Cahill!” Asher said, proud of his deduction. “Like the road?”
Jeff gave him a sullen grunt.
“So no brook?” George asked.
“Not really. There’s one about a half mile back, dumps into Black Pond. But it’s kind of hard to get to.”
“Any caves?”
“Not really.”
“How about the mine?” Asher asked.
“Oh, a mine?” George asked with a grin.
“Caved in.”
“All of it?” George asked.
“Mostly.”
“Do you know who owns it?”
“That’d be Miz Jenkins, but she don’t live around here.”
“Wow, there are still Jenkinses around?” Asher asked. He didn’t know the sort of people that put roots into the land. Especially the kind that had towns and roads named after them. All of his friends were transplants from somewhere else. As Jeff would be fairly soon, if he read him right. Some people could love a place enough to stay put. Asher had never had an inkling of that sort of thing, but now that he had children, he could finally understand it. The suburban house where he grew up had no sentimental claims on him, but the thought of land handed down from father to son had a romantic glow about it.
“Always been Jenkins and Cahills,” Jeff said with an almost embarrassed air.
“Does your uncle live up by you?” Asher asked.
“Naw. He’s got the back side of the ridge. Better land. He’s got a big farm.”
Asher wondered at the inequity. Erwin had land and a farm. Jeff’s mother squatted in the side yard of a falling-down house. It could all be because Jeff’s mother was an addict. Maybe she sold the land. “What about your dad?” he asked and regretted the question once he saw the sadness in Jeff’s eyes.
“He passed four years ago.”
Which might have been the trigger for Alma’s tumble. Considering Jeff and Jolene, he couldn’t believe two hopeful kids could come from such a lackluster mother as Alma. The dead dad must have been a good one. Asher felt sorry for Jeff and his sister being saddled with a mother like that in a time when they needed to grieve also. For once, he was thankful that his parents had conveniently died before they wreaked any havoc on their sole child.
George started pacing down the path again, calling to a couple guys that Asher didn’t recognize.
“This is where it gets boring,” Asher said.
“How come?” Jeff asked.
“They’ll be measuring and walking things out. Taking notes. Nothing of interest.” But even as Asher was saying that, he saw someone running from the far side of the field. Running in a way that didn’t say hurry, so much as panic.
“Call 911! Call the police!” he hollered as he jogged toward them. “There’s a body in the woods!”
Chapter 20
Asher, George and Jeff headed to where the body was supposed to be. Under a group of tall pine trees, throwing deep shade beneath them, the ground dipped into a narrow channel before gently climbing into the woods. Even as he was limping along on George’s heels, Asher knew he didn’t want to see what might be there, and he didn’t want Jeff to look at it either. If it was anything like what he’d found in the woods a few days earlier, no one should have to see that. He skidded to a halt and grabbed Jeff’s arm. “We should wait here.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Jeff glared at him, but the sound of someone losing their lunch sealed the deal. George came back up the incline, pale as a sheet. “You should take Jeff back to the car.”
“Why?” Jeff demanded. He craned his neck, peering over George’s shoulder.
George moved to block Jeff’s view. “We all need to get away from here. Whoever it is, they’ve been gone a while. It’s bad.”
“Could it be coyotes again?” Asher asked.
George’s head snapped around in surprise. “Again?”
“Well, it’s a possibility, isn’t it?”
George rolled his eyes. “Coyotes? Where do you think you are?”
Asher realized that he didn’t have a clue as to the local fauna. Back home, coyotes had eaten his neighbor’s three pugs and another neighbor’s bulldog had been nearly killed. He’d heard them snarling one night. It was a frightening, primal sound that had scared him despite stout walls and locked windows. “Not coyotes, then what?”
From behind them, one of the crew babbled, “He’s been ripped to shreds.”
Jeff’s eyes got large, and George blanched a shade greener. In another second, panic would hit. Asher threw an arm out dramatically. “’Ware, my true companions, for here be dragons.”
George huffed out a weak laugh. “The police will be here soon, and we need to stop walking all over the crime scene.”
Asher wanted to ask if the deceased was missing a foot, but he thought that would draw too much attention back to him. Better to leave that to the police. Asher put an arm across Jeff’s thin shoulders and turned him back towards the car. The ragged path squeezed them down to single file. Jeff took lead with George trailing behind.
“What is it with you and bodies?” George grumbled just loud enough for Asher to hear.
“It has nothing to do with me,” Asher shot back. “You got here first.”
“But we didn’t find the body until you arrived.”
“Sheer coincidence,” Asher said firmly.
By the time they’d walked across the field, Sheriff Danson had arrived. He gave Asher a hard stare as he got out of his car.
Jeff made a beeline for him. “Sheriff, somebody got killed,” he burst out.
“You don’t know that, Jeff,” Danson said.
“No, it’s true! There’s a body!”
Danson glared at Asher. “What are you all doing here?”
Asher stumbled over a few words before George stepped in. “We’re renting this field for the movie, Sheriff. Came out to take a good look. Didn’t expect to find a body.”
Danson moved his glare to George. He gestured toward Jeff. “We haven’t had a murder here since his grandfather blew the mine. You Hollywood people show up, and now we got two.”
Chapter 21
As George led the sheriff back to the body, Asher pulled Jeff over to the car. He didn’t want to be around for the subsequent questions and accusations. The sheriff was in a bad mood, and he hadn’t even seen whatever had made George turn green which was getting worse in Asher’s imagination by the second.
“I hope Aunt Sue’s okay,” Jeff said.
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s got a place back up in the woods,” he said pointing towards where the body was found. “Back on Black Pond.”
“Is she Erwin’s wife?”
“Sister,” Jeff corrected.
“Do you want to call her?”
Jeff laughed. “Aunt Sue doesn’t have a phone.”
“Well, that’s different.”
“Oh Aunt Sue is more than a little different. She’s crazy. She lives in that shack by herself. Year round! People say she’s fey. That she dances with the fairies, naked, on a full moon.” Jeff shrugged. He gazed out over the field with a faraway look in his eyes. “She’s always been good to Jo and me. I cut wood for her in the summer.” He smiled at Asher and the earlier shadows lifted. “She makes really good brambleberry pies in that old cast-iron stove. Gave me her recipe.”
“Do you want to talk to your Uncle?”
“No!” Jeff turned on his heel and headed for the car. He’d parked down the road.
Asher discovered that walking downhill used some very uncooperative muscles. He had to
slow down. Jeff turned back to watch his hobbling approach. “Do you want to go check on your Aunt?” Asher asked.
“Nah. She’s probably out in the woods talking to the squirrels, again.” A smile quirked up one side of his mouth. “Aunt Sue ran a bear out of her cabin one time. I don’t think anything scares her.” The smile faded. “Who do you think it is?” he said with a worried glance over his shoulder.
“I’m hoping it’s the same body that I saw in the woods.”
“How’d it get here?”
“That’s a very good question.”
“If it’s your body, it can’t be anybody I know, ‘cause nobody’s gone missing.”
Asher winced. “Ugh, it isn’t my body.”
“Finders keepers,” Jeff said with a devilish grin.
It was just gallows humor, but Asher couldn’t join in. He was relieved that Jeff wasn’t taking it too seriously. In a small town like this, there was a good chance Jeff would know the deceased. If it was the same victim, he would have been missing for days. Asher preferred not to dwell on the subject. He thought about how best to distract Jeff.
“Okay then, how about you take me back to the cottage?” Asher asked. His legs were getting wobbly from walking on the uneven terrain. He wondered if that counted as physical therapy.
“Sure.” The kid hurried past him to open the car door for him.
“Thanks.” Asher hauled himself in clumsily. It was a toss-up as to which hurt more, his arms or his legs. Jeff jogged around the car and jumped into the driver’s seat.
“Don’t go too fast,” Asher said as he clicked his seatbelt.
“No. I’ll go slow.”
Now that he was off his feet, Asher realized how hungry he was. “I’m famished, what about you?”
Jeff nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. “I can always eat.”
The kid was a hair past lean, heading for emaciated. Asher wondered if it was a growth spurt or lack of food. Asher had been painfully thin after he topped six feet in his late teens, and again when he’d been using. Jeff had too much color in his face and too much energy in his voice for the lack of fat to be drug related. “Where’s a good place to eat?”
“Burgers? Pizza?”
“Is that all you’ve got around here?”
