Tempting the Light: Legends and Myths Police Squad (L.A.M.P.S. Book 1)

by Bonnie Gill

  “Abby Fitzgerald.” She took a step back from him and surveyed his heavily tattooed arms. The man towered over her small five foot nothing frame, his buff body seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

  “Yeah, too right.” Ottar watched her with the intense eyes of a tiger pursuing a bunny. “Where’s River?”

  Abby hugged her waist. What a scary dude. She pursed her lips together.

  Ottar’s brown eyes clinched her in a stare, waiting for her to respond.

  She raised her hand and pointed toward the back of the house. “He went to get a new shirt.”

  Ottar journeyed around the corner to catch up with River, and left her alone in the kitchen.

  Abby meandered over to the counter to sneak a peek at the stack of books. The top one displayed a picture of the Jersey Devil with huge wings spanning the cover. Her legs weakened, her knees threatened to collapse.

  They knew . . . Dear God! Both of them knew! She covered her mouth with her shuddering hand.

  They believed Mr. Livingston’s story.

  From the look of Ottar’s guns, they intended to hunt down and kill her. Abby backed away slowly from the books as if they were a bomb threatening to detonate. She tried to wrangle her expression from scared poopless to neutral, but no matter how hard she bit her bottom lip it wouldn’t stop quivering.

  River and Ottar bounded back into the kitchen.

  “I need to go. I can just walk home. You two look busy.” She concealed the fear in her voice.

  “No.” They both fired the word in unison.

  River walked up and clutched her hand. “I said I would drive you home.” He looked over to Ottar. “You coming?”

  Ottar wagged his keys in front of him. “I’m driving.”

  Sitting in the back seat of Ottar’s humongous black SUV, Abby listened while River called out directions to Pepper’s house. She stared at the small braids intertwined with the hair on back of Ottar’s head. His slayer eyes targeted Abby’s in the rearview mirror. Her throat went dry as if someone packed silica packets into her mouth. In fact, those eyes scared the crapola out of her. She concentrated on figuring out a way to get that genie to remove the curse before she ended in the sights of Ottar’s shotguns or worse, dead.

  Halfway up the long driveway to Peppers, Ottar pulled over to the side. “Stay here.” He jumped out of the driver’s seat, ran around to the rear of the vehicle, and pulled out a scary gun.

  Abby tugged on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Ottar lifted the gun and aimed. She rolled down the window, frantic to stop him. “Wait. Pepper has dogs and horses on the property. Don’t shoot them.” The child-lock was engaged, she reached over the half-opened glass and pulled on the outside handle to open the door.

  Boom! The gun fired.

  Abby hopped out of the truck, ducked, and covered her head with her arms. Oh shit, what the heck is he doing?

  “Bloody hell.” Ottar raised his gun a second time.

  River placed his hand on the gun and lowered it. “Nice. You just shot a dinosaur statue. I think you’ve been out in the field too long, you crazy bastard.”

  Ottar lifted his left palm. “Crikey. Who in their right mind has a brachiosaurs in their front yard?”

  River snickered. “That would be Pepper. Oh, I can’t wait to hear you explain why you shot her sculpture with a tranq gun.”

  “Yeah, well, she must have a few wallabies loose in the upstairs paddock.” He pointed to the side of his head and made a circle with his finger. “You could have warned me.” Ottar placed the gun in the back of his truck.

  “Thanks for the ride, guys.” Abby slammed the truck door and headed toward the porch. She hurried. Good heavens, what was a madman like that doing with a gun?

  “Wait up.” River jogged up behind her and grasped her fingers.

  She hesitated, then turned to face him.

  “I wanted to let you know that I’m going to be tied up with Ottar for a few days.”

  “What’s going on?” She played dumb, knowing full well what they planned to do. They were going hunting for the Jersey Devil.

  His brows pulled in. “There’s something dangerous in the woods. Promise you’ll stay inside. Okay?” His eyes pleaded with hers, begging her to be careful.

  “Oh—kay.” She couldn’t very well tell him she was the monster they were after. But maybe if she acted like she didn’t believe him, he would double think about hunting the Jersey Devil. “But I like to hike through the woods.”

  “I mean it.” His voice was more forceful this time, a direct command. He wouldn’t budge on this.

  “Sure,” she agreed. Was it too much to hope he’d give up the hunt before she turned into the devil again? With her luck, yes.

  He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Good. Make sure you remind Pepper.” With that, he ran back to the truck.

  Abby’s heart dove, aorta first, into her stomach. She thought about how he’d saved her from the falling speaker. His concern about her puffy nose. How much she desired him.

  Damn him for making her want him. Screw him for calling his shotgun toting hunting brute in on this case.

  She whipped around and stormed up the steps.

  First and top priority. She decided to stay focused, and find that evil tampon genie. If she didn’t find him soon, she just might end up mounted over Sheriff River’s fireplace as a stuffed trophy.

  Chapter 12

  River prowled through dense underbrush of the darkened silence of the forest. Night-vision goggles aided his sight. He hunted for perilous creatures of the wild that harmed humans and stole their life before their due end. He hunted injurious monsters who dwelled behind civilization, so women and children could be safe, and he loved it. He hunted to ease painful memories and the piercing guilt of losing his only brother.

  Six hours ticked off, and not a damn speck of evidence showed for his efforts. Ottar pursued several yards parallel to him, swiftly and without a sound. Ottar’s movements were barely visible through the thick woods, his face painted camouflage to blend with the trees and foliage. River smiled despite himself. The big Australian oaf was gifted with a seventh sense or something. Ottar’s talent and proficiency in hunting Cryptids had never failed them. Ottar’s only flaw River could find was he took to many risks that were often viewed as suicidal.

  River stopped mid-step and spied three small messy footprints in the soft dirt. He pulled off his goggles, turned on his flashlight, and banged it against his palm. The damn thing kept flickering. The thick woods were hard enough to see in daylight, let alone in the dark. He followed the prints but they disappeared. Did Gnomes fly? The books hadn’t mentioned flying abilities. He pulled out his casting kit and dumped some bottled water into a dish. He mixed the powder in and poured plaster into the prints.

  Ottar loomed behind him, quiet as a koala or whatever non-noise making animal they had down-under. “Hey, Ottar, want to call it a night?” River’s intuition always told him when his friend snuck up on him. He dug up the dirt around the footprints to pop the casts out of the ground and placed them in his backpack.

  Ottar rubbed his eye. “Bloody oath, mate. I’m rooted, ey.”

  Dawn broke the horizon dousing the woodlands with an eerie blue hue. River sucked in a breath of warm still air. “Both these Cryptids are nocturnal. They won’t be out during the daylight.”

  “Sure. It’ll take us a while to walk back. Is your witness reliable?” Ottar adjusted the strap on his shotgun and let it swing across his back.

  “Yes. He gave a detailed and accurate description of both the Jersey Devil and the Gnome.”

  “If it is a Gnome, the little bogan didn’t just show up in the states on his own. Someone brought him over. Any suspects?”

  River pulled on his collar. “Yeah, a few.
Charlotte, Pepper, and Abby.”

  Ottar smiled a snarky grin and placed his heat sensing equipment in his pack. “I didn’t realize sticking your tongue down her throat was a new way to interrogate.”

  “I wasn’t . . .”

  “Don’t tell porkies, mate. I know exactly what was going on before I walked in your house tonight. Her lips were swollen, her face flush, she had that just pashed look.” Ottar flicked his hair and turned his head back and forth in slow motion like the shampoo commercials, then batted his eyes and laughed.

  “All right. I was trying to get close to her. I have a feeling Abby and Pepper are hiding something.” He shook his head. Abby’s playful kisses were wonderful.

  “Pepper’s the one who owns the dinosaur, ey?”

  “Exactly. You know you’re a real asshole.” The horror on Abby’s face when he fired at the statue haunted him. “Abby’s skittish enough without you shooting everything. They’ll think you’re trigger happy.”

  “I don’t give a snake’s ass. We were sent here to capture or kill Cryptids. Playing sucky face with the ‘locals’ comes second or third if you count going out and getting smashed on some stubbies from the Bottle-O.” That was Ottar—a horde of women and tons of booze—but he never let his extracurricular activities interfere with the hunt.

  True, they did have a job to do, but being on assignment for over fourteen months could turn lonely. He already missed Abby’s gentle touch, her soft laugh, and her sense of humor. When she doctored his wound, her soft caress sent the tadpoles racing for release. He held back, afraid he’d look inexperienced or unable to control himself. He imagined Abby in his arms in his bed, her soft curls splayed over his shoulder and chest. He smiled.

  Ottar cleared his throat. “What have you found out so far?”

  “Charlotte is widowed, twice. Her first husband electrocuted himself in the bathtub with an electric shaver. He had a blood alcohol level of zero point one eight. Her second husband died cutting down a tree in their front yard. The tree fell on him.”

  “Hmm. Both accidents sound suspicious. Did the law check her out?”

  He had pulled both police reports when he moved into town. “She had been present at the time of both accidents but no charges were filed.”

  “Okay, how about this Pepper?”

  “Pepper owns a pet store.”

  “Really,” Ottar said, the word a remark, not a question.

  “I know. No one would have questioned a live shipment to her store. But, she’s one of those animal activists. A vegan, harm and eat nothing with eyes. You know the type.”

  Ottar grunted and paused for a moment. “Some of them love animals but hate people. She might have very well done it.”

  “She doesn’t fit the profile. Her store is doing well financially and everyone likes her.”

  “What about Abby?”

  No not her. “She just moved here last week.”

  Ottar kept quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “Where did she move from?”

  River quickened his pace through the forest. “A few towns over.”

  “Close enough that she could have driven over here and let the Gnome loose. Why did she move?”

  “She caught her live in boyfriend cheating and needed a place to stay. She moved in with Pepper.” River smirked. Her ex’s loss, my gain.

  “So Abby’s on the rebound. You bloody wanker.” Ottar fist-bumped River in the upper arm. “We’ll have to set up surveillance. I brought extra cameras with motion detectors and night vision. We can install them to monitor their yards.”

  Spying on Abby seemed wrong, especially after what they just shared, but if it saved her life, he held no reservations. “I’ve already filed the necessary paper work.”

  They reached Ottar’s SUV and loaded their backpacks into the cargo area.

  Ottar slid behind the steering wheel. “Where does the widow live? I’d like to drive by.”

  “She lives a few blocks east of Pepper’s house.” River tried not to sound tired, but the words came out slower than normal. Charlotte was one person he’d rather not deal with right now. He grimaced as Ottar drove back to civilization.

  Bright sunlight reflected off windshields of cars parked along Charlotte’s road. Temperatures usually ran around eighty degrees in July, and today would be no exception. They bounced over a couple of potholes and River pointed out the widow’s restored Victorian house.

  Ottar crept the vehicle in front of the house. Charlotte opened the purple door, dressed in a pink satin teddy. Her sheer robe with poofy stuff around the edges, flared out behind her. She wobbled down the driveway in feathered high heel slippers and bent over to pick up her newspaper.

  Her eyes brightened like high-powered LED spotlights when she recognized River sitting in the passenger seat. “Hi, Sherriff River.” She promenaded up to the SUV, her hips in full swish and flirt mode. “You’re looking good this morning. I love your blond curls.”

  “Charlotte, nice to see you.” River forced the sentence out. His tightened tone held an artificial edge. He’d push himself to be nice to the floozy if that’s what it took to prove Abby’s innocence.

  She leaned her arms on the open window and stuck her head in the passenger side, inches from River’s face. “Who’s your friend?”

  He wanted to lean away from her. “This is Ottar. He’s a good friend and colleague of mine.”

  “Ma’am,” Ottar reached over for her hand and greeted Charlotte with a sly smile.

  “Are you gentlemen interested in breakfast? I can make you eggs and ham.” The edge of her robe dropped exposing her smooth spray-tan-orange shoulder.

  “Unfortunately, we have to get back. Can we take a rain check?” The last thing he wanted to do was to have breakfast with Charlotte.

  “I’m hungry.” Ottar ignored River, and said, “We have time.” The corner of his mouth rose in a mischievous smirk.

  Ottar leapt out of the SUV and put his arm around Charlotte on the way to the house. River lagged behind hating every minute of the ruse.

  Once inside the Victorian, he sat at Charlotte’s kitchen table while Ottar excused himself to use her bathroom. Time seemed to drag. Either Ottar was giving birth in the toilet, or he was searching her whole house. He’d bet tacos for lunch, it was the latter.

  As a distraction, River stood up and moved behind her and reached around to grab an egg out of the carton. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you scramble the eggs while I fry the ham?” She leaned her back against him and purred like a cougar. The noise twisted in his gut like a boa constrictor squeezing his intestines.

  The harsh rose scented perfume Charlotte wore overpowered his windpipe. He stepped back, and let loose a tight cough. Abby didn’t wear heavy perfume, only the tasty scent of cherry lip balm.

  Charlotte bent over so her nightie lifted to give River a peek of her backside being flossed by a G-string. Good God, I’m gonna hurl. It wasn’t that Charlotte was that bad looking, she just tried too hard. Definitely not his type. No way did she interest him in bumping the nasties. There was no doubt in his mind that many men parked their car in Charlotte’s garage.

  If it were Abby, it would be an entire different show and shebang.

  “I’m so glad you’re sharing breakfast with me today. I can’t tell you how lonely it is living in this big old house all alone, except for the ghosts. Did you know, I think my house is haunted?” She gave her hips a small thrust when she flipped the ham.

  River shook his head. Maybe her dead husbands came back to seek some revenge? Where the heck was Ottar? What the heck was he doing? Sorting her panties?

  “The eggs are ready to go in the skillet.” He pushed the stainless bowl across the counter to her. “Would you like me to set the table?”

>   “Sure, the dishes are over there.” She pointed to the china cabinet against the far wall.

  River walked over and opened the glass door. He looked down at the side table and saw a stack of bills. Some marked in red “Past Due.” Interesting.

  A thump sounded above their heads. Damn it, Ottar needed to be more careful.

  Charlotte looked up at the ceiling. “Is your friend upstairs?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll check.” River took off around the corner and down the hall to the stairway. Ottar almost collided with him.

  “No, he’s in the hallway.” River called out to her.

  “See, I told you I had ghosts. Why don’t you guys sit down? The eggs will be done in a minute or two.”

  River nudged Ottar in the side and gave him his you-best-behave look.

  They sat down at the round oak table on pink cushioned chairs. River ignored Charlotte’s foot rubbing up and down his leg. He shoveled the moist eggs and fried canned ham into his mouth. The greasy meat stuck in his throat and he tried to wash it down with sugary coffee. His stomach grumbled unhappily.

  “These are really good. I appreciate the breakfast.” Ottar took his time savoring the food. He locked eyes with River and gave him a shameless smile.

  “Yes. Thank you.” River took his dishes over to the sink and rinsed them off. “We have to get back to the station. Hercules has been there all night.”

  “Who’s Hercules?” Charlotte asked.

  “A dog I adopted.”

  “How nice.” Her tone was flat and filled with no interest.

  They cleared their dishes and said their goodbyes.

  “I’m driving.” River snatched the keys from Ottar. He sat in the driver’s seat and imagined different ways he might kill Ottar for taking his time eating and making him suffer Charlotte’s advances longer than necessary. “Did you find anything?”