by Amy Boyles
I quirked a brow. “We are?”
He nodded.
“Where to?”
“The coroner’s office.”
I stepped toward him. “Sounds like fun. Will there be candles and wine?”
Stone straightened. He edged toward me until there was barely space for a hand between us. Heat shimmered off him and soaked into me. “If you want there to be.”
A fire siren sliced through the air, breaking the tension rising between us.
I stepped back. “Who’s driving?”
Stone shook his head. “You’d hate the way I drive.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because most women do.”
“Are you always so sexist this early in the day?”
He glanced away, his jaw clenching. “I like speed. I go fast. It’s not an easy ride. When you’re used to flying, that’s all you want to do.”
I crossed my arms and curled my lips. “Try me.”
His gaze washed over me. “Is that an invitation?”
Warmth bloomed over my cheeks. This conversation made my head spin, my heart race and my palms sweat. I clicked the button on my remote, and the alarm bleeped. “Hop in.”
Stone slid into the seat next to me, and I cranked up the engine. The SUV purred nicely. I put on the radio, GPS’d where I was going and nosed down Main Street.
“What kind of music do you listen to?” Stone asked.
I glanced over, doing a double take. Music?
“Is the correct answer gospel?” I said.
He laughed. It was a throaty sound, masculine and rich. My insides clutched. He rested a hand on the lip of the door and fingered the window’s seal. “There’s no correct answer. What you prefer is whatever that is.”
“Good. ’Cause I didn’t exactly want to be damned or anything for listening to rock.”
He quirked a brow. A glint of humor flashed in his eyes. I swallowed. “I love rock.”
He found a great station on the radio and hummed along until we arrived at the coroner’s office.
We entered the office and were met by a less than enthusiastic secretary.
“How can I help you?” she droned in a slow, nasally voice.
“We’d like to speak to the coroner,” Stone said.
Boy, I liked a man who took the lead.
Wait. What was I saying? Stone was an angel, not a human. He didn’t want to get involved with a human, and I didn’t want to get involved with an angel.
Keep telling yourself that, Andie.
I shook the thought out of my head as the overly bored secretary said, “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Stone said.
“We do?”
He smiled. “You’ll find it right there, in your book.”
“Oh, I see it,” she said. “Follow me.”
We followed Miss Personality down a hall lined with horrible dark wood paneling from the sixties. Or seventies. Or whatever decade someone thought that looked cool.
“How’d you do that?” I whispered.
He leaned over. An earthy, musk-filled scent trickled up my nose and made my heart thunder. “Had someone call this morning. We’re from the newspaper.”
“Got it.”
The secretary led us to a back office and knocked. “Your one thirty is here,” she said.
A clipped male voice responded, “My one thirty? I don’t have a one thirty.”
“It was in the book,” she said. “Here they are.” She looked at us. “Here you are. Here he is. If you need coffee, it’s by the bathroom, but it’s three hours old and smells burnt. Probably tastes that way, too.”
“Thanks, I think,” I said.
Stone nodded to her as she plodded back down the hall. He gestured for me to enter the office, which I did just as the man started talking in a short, professional tone.
“I don’t know where you’re from but you’re not on my appointment book.” His head was tucked down, and he stared at his desk. I immediately recognized the wisps of chestnut hair over the bald pate.
He glanced up at us and gasped. “The hunter,” he said in shock.
I nodded. “You going to tell me how you got that slip of paper?”
The man rose. “Yes. Come in, come in. There’s much to discuss.” He crossed to the door, shut it behind Stone and motioned for both of us to sit.
He reached out a hand. “We haven’t officially met. My name’s Oscar Snare.”
“Andie Taylor,” I said.
“Stone,” the angel said.
“Last name?” Oscar asked.
Stone shook his head. “I go by Stone.”
Oscar pulled his glasses from his nose, retrieved a soft cloth from a pocket and proceeded to clean them.
“It appeared on my door the morning after Charlie disappeared. I’d already called the police, but like I told you, they weren’t interested in pursuing it. Said she was eighteen and often girls run away. Even though I have a relationship with them, Sheriff Terry Terry didn’t offer much help.”
His bottom lip quivered. Poor man was a mess. I would be too if my child were missing. I didn’t even want to think about that. Oscar got ahold of himself, stuffed the cloth back into his pants and sat. His rolling chair squeaked like all ancient chairs forced to live out their days in offices.
“So the flyer appeared on your doorstep?” I said.
He nodded. “I knew I’d seen you somewhere before, and it was almost as if I was guided to find you. That’s how I ended up at your house.”
I shot Stone a confused glance. He kept his gaze on Oscar, but I could see his jaw tense. “Do you have any theories on this?” I said to him.
He dragged his gaze from Oscar to me. “I’ll check out some things.”
I crossed my legs and hooked both hands over one knee. “Mr. Snare—”
“Please call me Oscar.”
“Oscar,” I said slowly. “We didn’t come here about your daughter.”
He wiped his meaty fingers under his nose. “Oh? Why are you here?”
I hesitated. I hated to tell a man who’d asked me to help find his child that I really needed to brush right on past that and get to other information. Gosh, it just didn’t seem right, did it? But I had no other choice.
“One Mr. Jehoshaphat was found dead at Briarcrest. I work there. When I spoke to my director, Miss Givens, she mentioned he died of heart failure.”
Snare’s eyes widened. “Justin Jehoshaphat. Yes, I’m familiar with his death.”
“Was it heart failure?”
Snare tapped his meaty fingers together. He pursed his lips to a thin line and glanced from me to Stone, Stone to me. “That depends.”
“On what?” Stone said.
“On whether or not you’ll help me find my daughter.”
I dropped one booted foot to the floor. Stone reached out a finger and tapped the cuff of my jacket. A warm pulse of electricity shot up my arm.
“We’ll help you find your daughter,” Stone said.
I arched a brow. “We will?”
Because I hadn’t planned on coming out of retirement. Nope. Not me. Not for Vordrid, not for Stone, not for some angel who’d done something stupid like fallen for a creepy vampire—not for anybody.
One side of Stone’s mouth curved into a smirk. “We’ll help you find her, but you’ve got to tell us everything you know about Jehoshaphat.” His voice deepened when he said, “Everything.”
Oscar nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I’ll tell you what I know, which was more than my official report.”
I leaned forward in shock. “It was?”
Oscar gave me a sheepish grin. “A bit more, yes. Well, theories mainly. The janitor did have heart failure, which was the official cause of death, but there was something more.”
“What was that?” I said.
I clutched the armrests of the chair, digging my fingernails in, way in. I glanced down at my perfect gel manicure. That’s what I loved about this polis
h. You could just about rip steel apart and the color would still hold.
I call that a win.
Oscar coughed into his hand. “It’s hard to describe, but the deceased had two small puncture wounds right about here”—Snare pointed the end of a pencil to his neck—“on his throat.” He pulled the cleaning cloth from his pocket again and proceeded to wipe sweat from his head. “It appeared that someone may have drained some of his blood through the holes.”
I sat back in the chair, exhaling as I went. “What did the wounds look like up close? Were they perfectly round?”
Oscar shook his head. “No. They were jagged, as if made by teeth.”
My heart fluttered up to my esophagus. I glanced at Stone, who threw me an I-told-you-so look. “Okay. So did you tell the police?”
Oscar nodded. “I did.”
“And how did they react?” Stone said. He crossed one ankle over his knee. His foot brushed my thigh. “Sorry,” he murmured. He wiped down my leg where his shoe had grazed it. Once again, that electrical surge snaked through my veins. Seriously. I might as well go touch a live wire and get all this pulsing crap out of my body. It would make being near the angel easier.
Oscar sniffed. “How did the police react? Like I was crazy. Sheriff Terry told me he’d consider it, but if you know him, then you know what that means.”
I clicked my tongue. “He’s not going to do anything about it. All he’ll do is chalk it up to a heart condition and that’s it.”
“Right,” Oscar said. “It’s a wonder the guy’s still sheriff, but he knows enough of the right people to keep him in power, I guess.”
I nodded. “Looks that way. So, in your opinion, what happened to Jehoshaphat?”
Oscar leaned back. The chair groaned in protest. “In my opinion, Mr. Jehoshaphat died from heart failure brought on by the trauma of getting his blood drained. Possibly. Since I’m not a medical examiner, I sent the body to him for an autopsy, but it’ll be a couple of years before the report is back.” He folded his fingers over his bulging stomach. “Between you and me, I don’t believe in vampires, but it’s almost like that’s what killed this man.”
I nodded. Okay, I guess when even a novice tells you that vampires are running around Normal, Alabama, it’s time to listen.
“Okay, thank you for your help. Now tell us about your daughter.”
Oscar rubbed the worry lines seeding his forehead. “She’s a good girl; she really is. Graduated last year a straight A student. She decided to take time off before college, and that’s when it started.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“She got in with this crowd. Started hanging out at that Nightshots place.”
“Nightshots?” Stone said.
“Yeah. It’s a place the teens gather. It’s pretty clean for the most part, but something happened to her. She started acting differently, coming home late, not calling.”
It sounded like a typical teenage behavior. “Did she meet a boy?”
“I think so, but whenever I asked, she wouldn’t admit to it.” He paused, squeezed his fingers hard. “Ever since her mother died a few years ago, I promised myself that I’d always keep track of her. I tried not to suffocate my daughter, I want her to be independent but as a parent, I worry.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Anyway, that’s what I can tell you. The other night she went out and never returned.” He dropped his hands to the desk. “Please, if you can find her, or find out anything about what happened, I’d be grateful.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
Oscar wiped tears from his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Do you have a picture?”
Oscar patted himself down. “I know I’ve got one somewhere. Let me see.”
Stone and I rose.
Oscar gave us an embarrassed smile. “I know I’ve got one in here somewhere. You go on toward the door, I’ll find it.”
We reached the secretary’s desk. “Thank you for coming,” she droned in that bored, nasal tone. “I hope you had a good visit. Come back anytime.”
“Thanks,” I said. I turned around and fidgeted with my jacket as I waited.
“You look perfect,” Stone said.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What?”
He pressed a hand to the small of my back. “I’m only saying. There’s nothing for you to fix.”
I sneaked a quick glance at a mirror. Not one hair was out of place, not even a smudge of mascara. My black jacket fit my curves and even my butt looked pretty darn great in my jeans—high and round.
“Habit,” I said, grinning. “I guess I’m just used to making sure everything is in its place.”
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Trust me. It is.”
Holy crap. Was that like an innuendo? Did he mean something by that? I peeked up at him. I felt like a total klutz, like if someone touched me wrong, I’d fall over—at least I did in the presence of this heavenly creature.
And boy, was he ever heavenly.
“Here it is,” Oscar said. He walked briskly down the hall, waving a photograph. “Sorry it took me so long to find it. I passed out a couple dozen of them, giving away the last one I had in my wallet. I found this one, though.”
Stone leaned over my shoulder as I took the limp picture from Oscar. I could feel the angel’s soft breath on the back of my neck as I peered at the photo.
I sucked in air. The girl staring back at me was familiar, way too familiar.
“What is it?” Stone said.
“I know her.”
Oscar gripped my hand. “You do?”
I nodded. “Yes. I do. In fact I saw her yesterday.”
Hope rose in Oscar’s eyes. “Where?”
I slowly glanced up, my gaze washing from Stone to Oscar. “At my house. She babysat my daughter.”
TEN
“Anyone can be a witch within reason. All they have to do is try.”
—The Witch’s Handbook
* * *
I called the babysitting service as soon as we got inside the car.
“There’s no one by that name here,” the woman on the line said.
“But she was at my house yesterday. I ordered her from your company.”
“Could she have a different name?”
I gave the operator everything I knew, but still no luck.
“Sorry. I can’t find her.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, thumbing off the phone.
“No luck?” Stone said.
“None.”
I drove us back to the school, where Stone asked me to drop him off. He slid out of the seat and braced his hands between the open door and the vehicle. His lips coiled into a smile.
“So I’ll pick you up about seven?” he said.
I did a double take. “Wait. What?”
He drummed his fingers on the lip of the door. “So we can check out Nightshots. Sounds like this missing girl might be tied into the vampire thing. She might lead us to Star.”
I shot out a stream of air. “Oh. Right. Nightshots. Yes. Sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Oh, okay. You’re driving?”
He smirked. “I’ll go slow.” He tapped the door and said, “See you tonight. It’s a date.”
He shut the door before I could say anything. And by that I mean say anything stupid like, what do you mean it’s a date? And is this really a date? What should I wear? Does this mean you’re going to kiss me?
Not that I’d fantasized about him kissing me or anything. I mean, he had a pair of luscious lips, that was for sure, but I hadn’t thought about them grazing over my body, or my mouth.
Well, I hadn’t until just then.
Okay, time for a cold shower.
I nosed out of the parking lot and headed to the store for a giant can of whipped cream. Let’s face it; ice cream mochas wouldn’t be good for my waistline. Low-calorie whipped was a be
tter choice.
It was overcast, and by the time I got to the store, it was sprinkling. When I left there, the light rain had turned into a torrential downpour. I pulled into the carport, killed the engine and sat for a minute.
Then I remembered it was Dot’s first day. Dear Lord. I needed to get in there. Since the house wasn’t burned to the ground, I figured it must’ve gone pretty good.
I opened the kitchen door to the sweetest sound in the world.
“Mommy, Mommy, you’re home,” Gabby said, toddling into the kitchen, sippy cup in hand.
“Yes, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?”
Dot sailed in. Some sort of magical breeze made her pink hair and clothes flow behind her. I rolled my eyes. “We learned a new trick, didn’t we, Gabby?”
“New trick,” Gabby repeated.
“And one of your friends stopped by,” Dot said.
I arched a brow. “Oh?”
“Andie,” came Kate’s voice from the living room. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” I said.
Kate walked in holding a copy of Witchcraft for Beginners. “I stopped by a little bit ago and met Dot. Did you know she’s a witch?”
My stomach collapsed to the floor. Literally. It completely left my body. Keeping my face as straight as possible, I said, “Oh? A witch?”
“Yeah,” Kate said, her tone full of fascination. “She gave me this book to read. Did you know witchcraft can be as simple as staring at someone and wanting them to turn around? And then they do and bam! You’ve done some witchcraft.”
“I was explaining that’s one of the easier spells,” Dot said.
Kate thumbed open the hardback. It looked like something you’d find on the five-cent table at a garage sale. It probably smelled like it, too. “She’s letting me borrow this book so that I can get better at the craft, as witches call it.”
“Great,” I said. “This town could use a little witchcraft.” I stashed the whipped cream in the fridge, pulled out the chocolate sauce and squirted some in my mouth. Dot’s antics were going to turn me into a full-on chocoholic.
“You think so?” Kate said. “That could make things really interesting around here. Of course, the Baptists would be in an uproar. They’d probably try to burn me at the stake.”
