She pushed through the small opening and the flap closed behind her with a soft swish.
Freedom.
Smells assaulted her from every direction and she quivered with excitement. Which way to go first?
The boxer next door had peed against the big pine tree again, and she released a few drops of her own to let him know she’d been by. The breeze wafted a new scent her direction and she stopped in mid-stream.
What was that?
Light spilled from the small building behind the house where the old people lived. Scents poured out that were both foreign and familiar. Smells weren’t good or bad to her, only something to be investigated, but that house reeked of sickness and she usually avoided it on her nightly romps.
Inside the building was a playground filled with sights and smells and objects she’d never encountered before.
She danced in circles and jumped from one piece of furniture to another with abandon. She rolled and squirmed and wallowed in every new scent. And they were all new and different and intriguing.
An object caught her eye and she batted it with her paw. It skittered a few feet and stopped. She tried again, but it refused to roll any distance. Maybe if she tossed it.
The taste was as new and fascinating as the smell. She shook her head and it flew in the air, landing with a solid thunk.
This was fun, but how much more exciting if she had someone to play with. The boy was always grumpy since he started changing into a man.
The girl. She’d play any time of night or day.
She flew across the street and through her opening, toenails first clacking on the linoleum, then falling silent on the carpet. The door to the girl’s room was closed, but she nudged it open, then bounded onto the bed, dropping her treasure at the girl’s side and nuzzling her face. The girl might not be willing to play, but was always ready to cuddle.
When the first scream pierced the night air, she leapt to the floor and cowered under the bed.
*
Ruben groaned and reached for the phone. The buzzing was bad enough, but the vibration against the unfamiliar table made his teeth hurt. He punched the ‘talk’ button automatically, and reached for a pen.
No pen, no paper, he couldn’t even find the damn light. “Marquez,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low. No sense waking—he glanced beside him—Cheryl, if he didn’t have to. Although there wasn’t much doubt he’d have to.
His eyes went wide and his heart lodged in his throat as he listened. Shit, that couldn’t be right. He must have misunderstood. “Did you say Twisted Oak?”
Speed was suddenly more important than silence.
His shirt was on, though unbuttoned, and he was searching for his other shoe when Cheryl turned over and moaned.
“What are you doing? You can’t leave now. Come back to bed. You promised to take me out to breakfast. We were going to spend the day together.” Her voice took on a demanding tone.
“I don’t have time to talk now. This is an emergency. I warned you when you invited me over I was on call and might have to leave on a moment’s notice. I’ll make it up to you later.” Not another scene. He couldn’t handle a scene after that phone call.
It never failed. The first week they were easy going, laughing. By the second week, their whole personality changed.
She threw a pillow at him. “You jerk. You probably paid a buddy to buzz you just to avoid taking me out.”
“Cheryl, honey, please. I have to go, now.” He ducked as her phone sailed through the air toward his head.
“I’ll call as soon as I’m free,” he said. “I promise.” Would he? Yeah, but not with the message she wanted to hear.
He scooped her phone off the floor and tossed it beside her on the bed as he hunted for the door, a sliver of moon the only light. A string of curses followed him into the hallway.
His phone buzzed again as he reached the street. No need to check the readout. He knew who it was. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Where are you?” His partner’s familiar voice sounded distant in the cold night air.
“Almost to Texas City. Where are you?”
“At home. Where else would I be at three in the morning when we’re on call?”
“You might have had a date.” Ruben clicked his key fob and his car lights blinked twice, half a block away.
“Yeah, right. And if I did, I’d of had enough sense to bring her to my place, not drive thirty miles away from Houston.”
“Sure, because leaving women alone at your house has worked out so well for you in the past.” This time last year, Adam would have been out every night, on call or not. When had he turned into such a model of respectability? When he met Jillian, that’s when. Adam wouldn’t hesitate to trust her alone in his house.
His car started with a roar and he pealed out. “Quit bitching at me and get moving. Did you see the address?”
“I recognized it, and I’m already on the road.” The siren’s wail came through Ruben’s phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure she’s safe until you get here.”
*
Ruben flashed his badge and a young officer lifted the crime scene tape. Red and blue flashing lights made crossing the uneven grass tricky, but he knew every obstacle by heart.
A news crew called out to him, but he ignored them, even though that was dangerous. Vindictive jerks. They could make a guy look bad and screw up a case if you got on their wrong side.
“Over here.” His partner’s voice came from the shadows of the yard next door.
“Adam.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you know?”
“She’s fine. Didn’t even wake up until I got here to check on her. I had to pound on the door to get her attention.”
Asleep? Not likely. No one had ever slipped into that house, day or night, without Mamacita knowing. When Julio stayed out too late, he got a friend to drop him off a block from home and walked the rest of the way. He crawled through a window only to find Mamacita waiting for him.
Mamacita would never sleep through any commotion next door. If she didn’t answer Adam’s knock, she was on the phone, checking with the neighbors.
Adam pointed to the house behind him. Jack-o’-lanterns, skeletons, and fake spider webs filled the yard. “The body’s over there. The owners turned the garage into a big, one room apartment.”
Ruben noticed the crime scene techies for the first time, swarming in and out of a dilapidated building that had once been a two-car garage.
“Do you know the people who live here? Or the woman they rented to?” Adam had his spiral notebook out, pen at the ready.
“The Villarreals? Sure, I’ve known them all my life. They’re so decrepit now the neighbors all pitch in to take care of them. But when I was growing up, mi Dios, you didn’t want to mess with them. Vincente broke their window one time and the old woman had him doing chores for a month. And that was after he’d paid for the repairs. I don’t have any idea who they rented to. Didn’t know they had rented to anyone.”
“Detective Campbell?” A uniformed officer cleared his throat and stammered, “Th-there’s a woman over here that’s demanding I let her through. Says she’s Detective Marquez’s mother.”
Adam glanced at Ruben and grinned. “I told her to stay put. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“Tell her I’ll be right there,” Ruben said before whirling back to Adam. “Bring me up to date fast. I won’t be able to put her off for long.”
Adam checked his spiral. “Victim’s a Hispanic female, late forties. Someone took their time with her. There’s a shit load of blood and a few parts missing. Whoever did this was plenty angry about something. Unfortunately, the homeowners didn’t hear a thing.”
“Of course they didn’t. They’re both older than God and as deaf as the devil.” Ruben raked a hand across his chin. He should have taken the time to shave. He’d hear about that from Mamacita.
Adam conti
nued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The victim’s only lived here a month, maybe less. The Villarreals report steady traffic in and out, but there’s no sign of drugs. Looks like she was some type of psychic. ”
“Not a very good one if she didn’t see this coming.” How long had it been since he’d dropped by the house? No more than two weeks. He hadn’t noticed anything strange and Mamacita hadn’t complained. “Do we have a name?”
“We have lots of names, that’s the problem. We don’t know which one is real. If any of them are. Yolanda Garza is the one she used when she rented the room.”
“Who found her? Maybe they’ll know who she is.” He didn’t have much time. Mamacita would make a scene if he didn’t get over there soon. Just what every detective needed; his mother involved in one of his cases.
Adam gave a wicked grin and checked his notes. “Molly found her.”
He glanced up and down the street. “Molly? I don’t know any Molly around here. And what was she doing out at this time of night?”
“I guess she needed to pee.”
Ruben opened and closed his fists. At six foot eight and built like the linebacker he’d once been, not many people were willing to mess with him.
Adam was not only willing, he relished every opportunity. And he knew exactly what buttons to push.
Ruben took a step closer to his partner and lowered his voice. “Do not do this to me. Not tonight. I’ve spent the last forty-five minutes worrying about my mother’s safety. I’m still worried because I don’t know what went down here. Now, who is Molly and how did she discover the body?”
Adam moved to the side and nodded toward a disheveled man holding a leash with a border collie on the end. “That’s Molly and she trashed our crime scene and took a souvenir home to her owner.”
Ruben raised his eyebrows and Adam added, “A middle finger. Most likely the victim’s.”
“Is she missing one?” If there weren’t so many witnesses, he’d grab Adam by the neck and shake the information out of him.
“Several pieces are no longer attached to the body. Some of them are missing entirely. Could be Molly decided to bury them.”
“Would you care to tell me which ones, or shall we play Twenty Questions?”
“One ear, dangling earring still attached, is on the sofa. The other is nowhere to be found. The tongue and index finger are also missing.”
Ruben left Adam in his wake as he raced through the yard to the crime scene. He stood at the door and glanced inside. Smears of blood were everywhere. Worse than he’d imagined from Adam’s description. One glance at the body, twisted and bloody, and he blinked in surprise. The victim could almost have been his mother, only ten years younger. Same size, same coloring, same gray hair in a long braid. Except for the clothes. Mamacita would never wear such bright colors or mixture of prints.
“Ruben,” a determined voice called from across the yard.
“Go,” Adam said. “There’s nothing we can do here until the techies finish.”
Even Adam wasn’t brave enough to cross Mamacita.
Keep reading The Witch on Twisted Oak now.
Thanks to my husband for putting up with my long hours on the computer, and to my son, Ron Muller, and my daughter, Angela Muller Rehm, for trudging through my first drafts.
Thanks to Delma Neeley and Tess Grillo for their work as my early readers, and to Jason Rehm, Keno Henderson, and John Foxjohn for their assistance.
Thanks to my critique partners, Jen, Allison, Jan, Jaye, Stella, and especially Shawnna Perigo for looking at every change and making such valuable suggestions.
Thanks to my good friend Christie Craig for so much more than I can say in one line.
I appreciate the work of all the contest judges who offered helpful suggestions and encouragement.
THE SECRETS ON FOREST BEND
Copyright©2011
Susan C Muller
Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs
Interior Designed and Formatted by
www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, businesses, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All Rights reserved.
Published in the United States of America by
Stanford Publishing Company
ISBN 978-0-9960797-0-9
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books by Susan C. Muller
About The Secrets on Forest Bend
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
The Witch on Twisted Oak
Acknowledgements
Copyright Notice
The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 27
