“I hope this is a social call,” he said.
“We can pretend it is if you want.” John Talbot’s husky voice replied.
“I was afraid of that. What’s happened?”
“You remember Elmer Jenkins?”
“Elmer? Yeah. He lives on the north side with his wife. Has a taste for cheap rotgut, if I remember right. Nice fellow, though. Don’t tell me something got to him.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not really sure. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Is he missing?” McCoy asked.
“No. I know exactly where he is—in the morgue over at Meade County. It’s the circumstances which put him there that have me a little confused.”
The bad feeling in McCoy’s stomach finished setting up shop and plopped happily onto a stool behind the counter. A sign in the shop’s window read Open for Business.
“What was the condition of the body when it was found?”
“Frozen.”
“Oh. Then he was found outdoors. Well, that’s not surprising in this weather—″
“No, you’re not getting me. I mean he was frozen. As in solid. Like a block of ice.”
McCoy frowned. “How cold did it get in the Springs last night?”
“Upper twenties, maybe.”
“And when was he last seen?”
There was the sound of paper rustling as John flipped through his notebook. “Yesterday evening, just before dark. Between six and six-thirty. According to his wife, Lola, Elmer left the house on foot. He’d been heading over to the liquor store on Main. Apparently, they’d argued over him taking the car, and he decided he’d just hoof it. Lola said he usually took a shortcut through the wooded area behind his house. Sure enough, that’s where we found him.”
“What time did you find him?”
“A little after five A.M. Lola called us around nine last night, but with the near-blizzard conditions, it took a while to find the body.”
“Has the ME examined the body?”
“Yeah, but I won’t have an official report for a day or two. Maybe longer, if this weather doesn’t break.”
McCoy took a sip of coffee. It tasted more bitter than it had a few minutes ago.
“Unofficially, does he think Elmer died from exposure?”
There was a pause, then John said, “Yes and no.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“The ME seems to think Elmer froze to death. But he says it’s not possible that the skin and muscles would have frozen solid in that amount of time, given the temperature. And then there’s the matter of the position of the body.”
“What about the position of the body?”
“Well, that’s the kicker,” John replied. “When we found Elmer, he was standing on his own two feet.”
Chapter Two
“I know it goes against your nature,” Amanda said, “but you need to listen to John. You’ve got no business trying to get to Shallow Springs in this mess. You’d have Boo in a ditch before you made it a mile up the road.”
“Boo could make it,” McCoy said defensively. Boo, his beloved old pickup, was, at that moment, buried under at least eight inches of snow, had no heater to speak of, and was currently sporting four bald tires. Regardless of those facts, McCoy had considered trying to make the hour-long trip, and had made the tactical error of making that intention known in front of Amanda.
“Like hell, Boo could make it. The tires are slicker than a baby’s bottom, Finn. I’ve been on you to buy new ones for over two months now.”
It was true. He’d been putting it off, more out of sheer laziness than financial reasons. He had the money; between his inheritance and Amanda’s job at the law firm, they were far from hard-up. He just hadn’t had the motivation, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
“You have a computer here, and you have the information John gave you,” Amanda continued. “Just do as he asked, and try to figure out what it is he’s dealing with.”
McCoy knew that she was right, but he didn’t have to like it. A few years ago, he would have already been on his way to the Springs, bald tires or not. But a few years ago, he would have been a few years younger, with no recently-broken leg and no Amanda to come home to. A lot of things had changed in that time and, for the most part, the changes had been positive.
Still, the thought that his best years were behind him had been nagging at him lately. It was a silly thought, because he had gone from being lonely and insecure in his personal life to happy and fulfilled. He no longer had to dodge the Fey at every step, and he actually felt a genuine satisfaction when he was able to help someone. But still the feeling lingered. And, try as he might, he couldn’t completely shake it.
He supposed it had something to do with his injury. It had been the first time in his life that he’d been on his back for any length of time, totally dependent on others to care for him. It had been a humiliating experience, and sobering, but in the end it had given him a greater appreciation for the loved ones in his life. However, it had also shattered any illusions of invulnerability he might have harbored. He was getting older. He wasn’t as fast or as strong as he’d once been. Those were the simple facts of the matter.
“Do you have any idea?” Amanda asked.
“About what?”
“About what happened to that poor man in Shallow Springs.”
McCoy shrugged. “Maybe it was just an accident. Elmer was known for his drinking. It’s possible that he got turned around and lost in the storm.”
“John doesn’t seem to buy that.”
“No, and neither do I, really. Elmer had been through those woods hundreds of times. According to his wife, he was as sober as a judge when he left home. No one at the liquor store remembers seeing him last night, and he was a regular, so someone would have noticed him. And the wooded area isn’t that large. He could’ve walked for a few minutes in any direction and come out either on a road or in someone’s back yard.”
“Could the Fey be responsible?” Amanda scrunched her nose at the thought of the evil fairies.
“They would seem to be the likeliest suspects,” McCoy said. “But I don’t know of any type of fairy that freezes its victims solid. That’s not to say they don’t exist, only that I’ve never encountered one before. But no one’s seen hide nor hair of the Fey in over a year, since the truce began.”
“You’ve always doubted the truce would hold.”
“True. I’m surprised it’s lasted as long as it has. But I don’t want to blame the Fey prematurely. It could be we’re dealing with something entirely different.”
“Like a ghost or a demon?”
McCoy shook his head. “I don’t know. Whatever this was, it flash froze poor Elmer. He was still standing when they found him, like he’d been turned into a stone statue.”
“Could it be witchcraft, then?” Amanda wondered. “Some kind of black magic?”
“It’s possible.” McCoy never ceased to be amazed at how fast Amanda caught on. Only a short time ago, he’d worried that he had caused her irreversible harm by exposing her to the existence of monsters and ghosts. Not only had she adapted to that knowledge with relative ease, she had quickly become a valuable ally and partner, and had saved his bacon on more than one occasion.
“Well, you’re not going to find any answers jawing with me,” Amanda said. “Go see what you can find. I’ll cook us some breakfast.” She gave McCoy a quick kiss on the cheek and headed into the kitchen.
McCoy went over to the computer and turned it on. His ancient desktop was gone, replaced by a slim and sleek laptop. The new computer had been Amanda’s idea, and she had pretty much forced McCoy into making the upgrade. Of course, she also used the laptop to work from home on occasion, so it had been in her best interests to get rid of the slow, archaic desktop.
The new computer loaded in a fraction of the time it had taken the old one, and within moments McCoy was surfing the Internet, looking for any clue as to what type of
creature or entity they might be dealing with. If, in fact, they were actually dealing with anything supernatural. While McCoy tended to agree with the medical examiner’s statements, he was also acutely aware that not everything that appeared to have a supernatural cause on the surface actually was supernatural.
Though he hoped this was the case, he could not bring himself to believe it. After all, it was Shallow Springs, the paranormal hotspot of the Eastern United States. Even if the Fey were not involved, it could just as easily be something else.
The witchcraft theory that Amanda had proposed was interesting. Though most magic encountered in the Appalachians centered around hoodoo, or folk magic, the practice of the Dark Arts was not unheard of. More often than not, its use could be attributed to some blundering teenager who somehow blindly managed to get a spell right, thus necessitating McCoy’s intervention to clean up the mess. But there had been rumors of necromancers and dark sorcerers, though McCoy hadn’t personally seen any compelling evidence.
But if not witchcraft, then what? McCoy had been truthful when he’d said he was not aware of any Fey with the specific ability to flash freeze a person into a packaged steak. Of course, that didn’t mean that such a creature didn’t exist. He had, after all, been completely unaware of the existence of the Dobhar-chú until he had encountered one when he and Amanda had first met. The water hound had been stalking Amanda, and it had damn near killed both of them. Prior to that meeting, McCoy had considered the creature to be pure myth. It was a mistake he was not eager to repeat.
He spent the next half hour visiting several sites which dealt with mythological creatures and cryptids. When Amanda finally announced that breakfast was ready, McCoy had no more answers than when he’d started. Without more detailed information, it was going to be impossible to even guess at what might have killed Elmer Jenkins.
“No luck, huh?” Amanda asked, reading his face as he entered the kitchen.
McCoy shook his head. “I’m going to have to have more to go on. I could sit at that computer all day and still find nothing.” He walked to the window and looked out at the falling snow.
“Maybe they’ll have the roads cleared by tomorrow,” Amanda said. “Waiting one day won’t kill you.”
“It’s not me getting killed that I’m worried about.”
“Oh, Finn. What’s John? Chopped liver? He’s more than competent enough to handle things until you get there.”
McCoy couldn’t argue the point, especially since he knew something about John Talbot that Amanda didn’t: John was part Fey, a hybrid between human and fairykind. Though the extent of John’s abilities were unknown to either himself or McCoy, it had already been proven that, like McCoy, the sheriff could sense the Fey when he was in close proximity to the creatures. And, unlike McCoy, John could command fairy fire, a magical flame capable of burning his enemies.
“I’m sure you’re right,” McCoy sighed. “I’m just not used to sitting on the sidelines. It figures that something like this would come up during the worst blizzard in decades.”
“Next time, you should listen when I tell you to buy tires,” Amanda smirked as she put the food on the table.
McCoy gave her a playful finger and sat down to eat. Amanda had outdone herself—scrambled eggs, bacon, and homemade biscuits. McCoy, who would have sworn he wasn’t hungry only moments before, nearly choked on his own drool as he loaded his plate.
Earlier in the year, Amanda had been on a health food kick. Though McCoy had to admit that he’d lost a few pounds during that period, the main reason had been that the food tasted like crap and he had thus eaten less than usual. Fortunately, she had grown tired of the diet herself, and had resumed preparing the calorie-laden food that McCoy preferred.
By the time he finished his meal, McCoy was in a much better mood. Amanda was right. Big John knew what he was doing. Whatever aid McCoy could offer would wait another day.
John would have it covered.
Chapter Three
Big John Talbot was worried.
The late afternoon day had transitioned into early evening, and still the snow had not abated. Under normal circumstances, this would have caused enough headaches for the young sheriff. Even the main roadways were all but impassable, and one would have to have a death wish to attempt any of the secondary routes. The town’s lone wrecker service was running non-stop as motorist after motorist called in to report that they were stranded.
Of the town’s four police vehicles, only two boasted four-wheel drive, and those were also being kept busy as cars slid into ditches and each other. Though John had had the foresight to issue a curfew and close off many of the secondary roads, his efforts had been for naught. Residents ignored the ROAD CLOSED signs and simply moved the barricades John’s deputies had set up. These actions were usually followed closely by said residents sliding into a ditch or plowing through a field.
All that would have been enough to keep the most energetic of sheriffs busy, but John had a bigger problem on top of that. Something had killed one of his citizens, on his watch. And he had no idea what that something might be.
Though John had downplayed the circumstances surrounding Elmer Jenkins’ death to his deputies (except for Deidre Pratt, who had seen enough to know that everything was not always what it seemed in Shallow Springs), his gut told him that Elmer’s demise had been no accident. Curiously, though, he had not sensed any lingering traces of the Fey when he’d arrived at the scene. This puzzled John, for on the surface, the death had Fey written all over it.
John had, however, learned to trust his senses, and those senses told him that none of the Fey had been in the area recently. But his gut told him that something supernatural had been responsible for Elmer’s death. Unfortunately, his range of knowledge about supernatural beings began and ended with the Fey.
John sat behind his desk and stared through the window at the falling snow. He wished McCoy was there. He should have sent one of his four-wheel drive units to pick McCoy up earlier. Unlike John, McCoy could sense a wide range of paranormal beings and entities. For all John knew, the handler might have already identified Elmer’s killer, were he there.
But it was a moot point. McCoy wasn’t there, and John really couldn’t spare a four-wheel drive, anyway. Another thing he couldn’t spare was personnel for extra patrols, and that made him nervous. Something was out there in the snowstorm, and John was pretty much helpless to guard the townsfolk against whatever it was.
The phone on his desk rang, startling him. It was his private line, so it was probably either his father or McCoy. Since he’d spoken to his father only an hour earlier, John was betting it was the latter.
“Any new developments?” McCoy asked after John picked up.
“Just a couple dozen stranded motorists. You come up with anything?”
“No. It’s the proverbial needle in a haystack. I’m going to have to come up there to get a better idea. Is it still snowing there?”
“It hasn’t stopped all day. There’s probably two feet on Drover Mountain by now.”
“No doubt. How about the roads in town?”
“Slick and nasty. It may be a good thing, though. Most people will be staying inside tonight.”
“Yeah. As long as whatever it is doesn’t have opposable thumbs to open doors, we’re golden.”
“You’re one big ray of sunshine, Finn.”
“I try. Listen, I’ll try to make it up tomorrow. I’ll have to dig Boo out, but he should make the trip.”
“Only if you’ve put new tires on it since I last saw you. The cop in me wanted to give you a ticket for driving on balloons.”
“What is this? Do you and Amanda pow-wow when I’m not around? They’re a little worn, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry about that poor old truck. I’ll send a deputy to get you in the morning.”
“You sure you can spare one?”
“I’ll make do. I’ll have someone there by nine, if that’s all right.”
&nbs
p; “That’ll be fine. Listen, I meant to ask you something earlier, but I couldn’t in front of Amanda.”
“Where is she now?”
“In the shower. When you found Elmer, did you pick up on any Fey?”
“Nary a bit,” John replied. “They were the first ones that came to mind, believe me. If you could’ve seen poor Elmer, standing there like he’d been freeze dried. It was an awful sight. But I didn’t pick up on anything.”
“I figured as much, or else you would have mentioned it.”
“Well, I guess I’ll batten down the hatches and try to make it through the night. Will Amanda be coming with you tomorrow?”
“Does a polar bear shit in the snow? I’m sure she’ll be tagging along.”
“Okay. I’ll see you two in the morning.”
“See you then. And John?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“I’m usually the one saying that to you.”
“I know. I couldn’t resist sneaking it in.”
***
Katie Daniels trudged through the snow and cursed her luck. She’d known for months that the battery in the old Blazer was weak, and she’d even mentioned it to Justin on several occasions. But Justin had been more concerned with spending what little money they had on beer and video games. The new battery had never materialized.
Well, he would have to buy one now. The beer and games would have to wait, at least if he wanted her to keep her job. And he would want that, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get off his lazy behind and work. If anyone was going to bring any money in, it would be Katie.
At least it was still early. If she’d worked her full shift at the Quickee Mart, she would have been there until eleven. But the owner, Mr. Fredricks, had called and told her to shut down early. It was a mixed blessing though, because she would be short three hours on her paycheck. That amounted to just over twenty dollars, but to Katie, it was a lot.
On the plus side, it was only half a mile from the store to her house. She’d considered calling Justin, but it wouldn’t have done any good. The Blazer was the only vehicle they owned, and she knew better than to ask him to come down and walk her home. It was a good bet that he was already passed out on the couch, anyway.
Cold Chills (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 3) Page 2
