by Katie Ruggle
Inwardly, she felt that strange little swoop of her stomach, similar to how it felt on an airplane during turbulence, but she managed to keep her composure. “I’ll be forever grateful,” she said absently, checking out the area around the house as her mind concentrated on what she needed to do. Her focus was blown to bits when his huge hand grabbed hers.
“What?” she said, staring down at their linked fingers. His mitt was so big that hers had almost completely disappeared. “What?” If she hadn’t been so thrown off, she would’ve been embarrassed by her confused response.
“Ready, Wife?” he asked. The way he gently squeezed her hand and smiled crookedly at her made it hard to remember that he was just playacting.
She was forced to clear her throat before she could get any words out. “Never call me that again, or I’ll have to hurt you. And yes, I’m ready.”
By his snort, he wasn’t at all bothered by her threat. They strolled toward the house, and Molly tried to keep her expression guileless even as she scanned the area for Sonny—or any possible threats. Her heart rate picked up again, although this time it was at the thought of Tick’s mom’s house exploding in a ball of flame.
“Okay?” John asked as if he was able to hear her heart accelerate…or maybe her fingers were digging into his hand so tightly it had become painful.
She made an effort to loosen her grip. “Yeah. Just hoping we don’t get blown up.” Her mind flashed to the events of the previous night. “Again.”
With a wince, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, even as he said something that wasn’t reassuring at all. “Just remember to run if you think a bomb might go off.”
“If I think a bomb might go off?” Realizing that she’d gotten a bit loud, she lowered her voice to a hiss. “How am I supposed to tell if a bomb’s about to explode? A ticking clock like in a cartoon?”
He actually grinned at that. “Ah, the old ticking clock. It makes it so easy to identify a bomb. It even tells you how much time you have to run.”
There were a lot of things she would’ve liked to say in response to that, but they’d reached the front yard, so she stayed quiet and forced a smile instead. As they climbed the worn steps to the front door, she let out a deep breath and focused on what they were doing. She could argue nonsense with John later. Right now, they had a bail jumper to catch.
He pounded on the door, and she shot him a warning look, even as she sighed in exasperation.
“What?” he asked softly.
“Why not just shout police while you’re at it?” she muttered, keeping her gaze on the closed front door.
“Because that would be dumb, Pax.”
“You know what’s dumb, Carmondy?” Her voice was rising again. “Your cop knock.”
“Cop knock?” He examined his meaty fist. “I do not have a cop knock.”
“Yes, you do. It’s more cop-knocky than a regular cop’s knock. It’s like you slammed an entire ham against the door multiple times.”
Giving a dramatic gasp, he held his fist to his chest. “That’s so not true. A ham hitting the door would make a wet, fleshy sound.” His dimple flashed.
She threw up her hands, even as she made sure to keep her voice low. “Sonny probably took off through a back window when he heard that cop knock of yours.”
“Back window?” Dropping his melodramatic posture, he cocked his head with true interest. “Why not the back door?”
“There is no back door.”
“How do you know that?” There was no doubt in his tone, just curiosity, and it gave Molly a warm, mushy feeling inside to know that he trusted that she was right.
“Norah found the house floor plan online. The landlord posted them when he was advertising the place before Mother Tick rented it.”
“Huh. When did you talk to Norah?”
“I texted her while you were in the shower.” The door cracked open, and Molly prepared to chase if it was Sonny and he decided to run, but the person standing on the other side of the small opening was a woman in her fifties who, from what Molly could tell, did not look inclined toward sprinting. “Hello!”
“Can I help you?” The woman seemed a little suspicious, but not immediately hostile. Molly could work with that.
She widened her smile and gave her words a breathy, bubbly quality. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m Molly, and this is my husband, John. We’re from Denver, but we’re thinking about buying that church, and I wanted to get the opinion of someone who was really part of the neighborhood, you know?”
The woman—Mother Tick, Molly assumed—blinked several times, even as she opened the door a little wider.
“We just have a few questions about the area and the people… Would you mind?” Molly took a step closer, and Mother Tick fell back a step, swinging the door wider.
“Why would you buy that mess?” the woman asked, waving toward the dilapidated, vacant church.
“My husband’s a pastor, you see, and we both love projects.” Molly felt John’s fingers twitch when she assigned him his new career. “The building is actually wonderful, and so full of history. The structure is solid; it just needs a coat of paint or two.”
All three of them looked at the boarded-up church, which appeared to be leaning to the side.
“Anyway!” Molly said quickly in a bright voice. “What do you say? Could we ask you a few questions? It won’t take long at all, and it’ll help us so much with our decision.”
From the way Mother Tick’s mouth drew down at the corners as she studied them dubiously, Molly was sure that plan two was a bust. They were about to get the door slammed in their faces, and she knew that John would insist on trying half-assed plan four and a half next.
“Fine.” To Molly’s quickly hidden shock, Mother Tick swung the door open and waved them in. “I can’t take too much time, though. My son’ll be home soon, and he’ll need his lunch.”
“You have a son?” Molly hurried into the house before the offer could be rescinded. “How old is he?”
“Oh, he’s grown.” Mother Tick led them into a dimly lit living room. “He still loves his mom’s cooking, though.”
“I’m sure he does.” Taking in the heavy, closed drapes that cut off almost all natural light, Molly couldn’t keep herself from sending John a quick, bug-eyed look. The single floor lamp struggled to illuminate the space, providing just enough light to show an orange shag carpet and a floral couch. Squinting into the shadows coating the walls, Molly nearly recoiled when she caught a glimpse of glassy eyes staring at her. As her vision adjusted from the sunny outdoors to the dim interior, she realized that the walls were covered with taxidermy animal heads. “Oh…my. Do you hunt?”
John gave a slight cough into his fist to hide an obvious laugh. Smiling at Mother Tick, Molly resisted the urge to kick him on the ankle. If he kept that up, he was going to set her off, too. She sat down on the floral couch and was immediately swallowed up. Using John’s grip on her hand as leverage, she pulled herself out of the enveloping sofa cushion and perched on the edge, where she was in less danger of being eaten by the furniture.
“No. That was my ex-husband.” To Molly’s relief, Mother Tick seemed oblivious to John’s amusement, even though his dimple was in full appearance. He settled next to Molly, without giving up his grip on her hand. She didn’t mind. It was oddly reassuring to hang on to him, especially in this strange, dark house where Sonny was likely lurking. “I only kept those after the divorce because he loved those nasty things so much, and I wanted to piss him off.”
“Oh. Okay.” Molly blinked. “Do you live here alone, then?”
When Mother Tick’s expression closed, showing the suspicion Molly had thought they’d put aside once they’d been invited in, she hurried to smooth things over.
“It’s such a beautiful, big house.” Molly looked around, acting as if she could see muc
h of anything in the low light. “But I’m sure the upkeep takes up a great deal of your time. That’s one reason we’re hesitating on buying the church; we’re worried that it’ll be a money pit.”
Mother Tick’s sour expression eased, and Molly gave a silent sigh of relief.
“If we do become neighbors,” John chimed in, “we’ll be happy to help you with the lawn and other things like that.”
“Thank you. Sky is supposed to do all of that for me, but he gets busy and things slip his mind.”
“Sky?” Molly echoed, confused.
“My son.”
“Oh! Right.” Molly avoided meeting John’s gaze again, since she was already on the edge of laughter. How did someone go from the name Sky to the nickname Tick? They were both found in nature, but that was about the extent of the similarities. “He does live with you, then.”
Mother Tick gave the smallest nod of agreement. “Just until he clears his record and can apply for a concealed weapon permit. After that, he can get a good security job.”
Molly swallowed a snarky reply, offering a smile and a nod instead. “That sounds like a solid plan.”
“Do you think he’d be interested in helping remodel the church?” John asked, and Molly gave his hand a squeeze. They worked well as a team. “We’re going to need a lot of hands on deck, but we’ll pay generously.”
Mother Tick straightened with interest. “Well, I can’t answer for him, but I’ll pass that along to him.”
“And his friends,” Molly added quickly. “If he has some that are good with a hammer. We’ll be new to town, so we’ll need to rely on you to let us know who we should trust.”
“Of course.” Mother Tick looked pleased.
“So!” Molly broadened her sunny grin as she looked at the other woman. “Questions. How are the crime levels in this neighborhood? Do you have a lot of problems?”
“No, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean you won’t. My Sky has contacts, and he makes sure I’m safe.”
“Contacts?” Molly tried to sound hopeful, and not like she was going into interrogation mode. “Is there someone we should talk to? We’d like to get along with our new neighbors and parishioners, so any help you could give us would be welcome.”
Mother Tick pursed her lips, eyeing them. It was fairly evident that her desire to brag about her inside knowledge was quickly overwhelming her caution. Wanting to encourage this, Molly widened her eyes and leaned forward slightly, as if she couldn’t wait to hear what the other woman had to say.
“My son’s friend might be able to help you,” she said with a show of reluctance that was overridden by her obvious glee. “Sonny Zarver.”
“Sonny Zarver.” John pulled a pen and a small notebook out of one of his many pockets and jotted that down. “Where can we find him, do you know?”
Mother Tick looked startled by the question, and Molly held her breath, hoping that they hadn’t spooked her. Molly plastered on her best pastor’s wife smile and nudged John, who beamed kindly at Tick’s mom as well. After a moment, she relaxed slightly, and Molly followed suit.
“He’s been staying here, actually,” Mother Tick said, and Molly forced down her excitement, keeping her expression blandly interested with a great deal of effort. They were so close.
“Oh?” Her fingers tightened on John’s hand, needing an outlet to let out her nervous glee. When she heard him grunt, Molly relaxed her grip, giving his fingers the slightest light squeeze in apology. “Is he here now?”
“I think so.” Mother Tick frowned, but it was more uncertain than suspicious this time. “Although I haven’t heard anything from his room yet today.” All three of them glanced at the ceiling, and Molly stopped herself before she could squirm. Their target was so close, just some wooden studs and plaster separating them from a huge bounty and a chance to keep her and her sisters’ home. “He keeps rather…odd hours.” The downturn of the woman’s lips lightened, changing to a proud smile. “Sky, on the other hand… You could set a clock by him.” Her gaze darted to a gold clock sitting on the table, just as it chimed the three-quarter hour.
No time to waste, Molly thought as she twitched, finally giving in to her urge to wriggle around. “I’m so sorry,” she said, ducking her head in pretend bashfulness. “We haven’t told many people yet, but you’ve been so kind…” She shot a look at John, who smiled at her even as he silently asked what she was about to do. This part hadn’t exactly been ironed out before they’d knocked on Mother Tick’s door. “We’re expecting our first.”
Pressing her hand to her belly, low down where period cramps were centered every month, Molly let her smile stretch, trying to show all of the sappiness and none of the horror that came with the idea of being pregnant. “Unfortunately, this little bean is parked directly on my bladder. Would you mind if I used your bathroom?” When Mother Tick hesitated, Molly bit her lower lip, trying her best to look both embarrassed and in urgent need of the facilities.
“Very well,” Mother Tick finally huffed, waving at the dim archway that led away from the front door. “Second door on your left.”
“Thank you,” Molly gushed, slipping her hand out of John’s and instantly feeling the loss.
“Do you need any help, sweetness?” John asked her, and she barely kept herself from throwing him an eye-rolling Why would I need help to pee? look, giving him a gritted-teeth smile over her shoulder instead.
“I’ll be fine, dumpling.” She turned toward Mother Tick, whose eyes had narrowed again at his offer, and gave a small, isn’t-he-sweet laugh. “Overprotective first-time daddy,” she said in a stage whisper before throwing John a kiss. The dork actually pretended to catch it and pressed it to his heart, which was both ridiculous and, at the same time, gave her a warm feeling in her chest.
She hurried toward the hallway before John could do anything else. The bathroom door was open, so Molly turned on both the light and the exhaust fan, the latter to hopefully hide any noises that she should be making. The door locked with a simple push button on the knob, so she engaged it before pulling the door closed while she was still in the hallway.
Not wanting to waste any time—since who knew what John was saying in the living room—Molly slipped deeper into the dark house. Although she knew from what Mother Tick had said that the room Sonny was staying in was upstairs, she pulled a small flashlight out of her pants pocket and peeked into the next room, which looked like a rarely used study. Once she saw no one was inside, she moved to the next doorway.
She hated to waste her limited time checking rooms, but Molly didn’t want to be ambushed from behind. Her hope of simply grabbing Sonny and calling in a sheriff’s department pickup had died the night before, when he’d blown a hole in a bathroom wall to escape from them. This would most likely be messy, but she was determined that this one bail jumper would not stand in the way of her keeping her family’s home.
Stepping into the kitchen, she made a face as she looked around. Even in this room, curtains were pulled over the window above the sink, turning what should’ve been a bright and open kitchen into an eerie space. The counters and cupboards were obscured in the gloom, which blackened the space underneath the small table. Even her small light somehow made things worse, illuminating just a small area, but leaving the rest of the room shrouded in shadows.
The beam of the flashlight settled on a narrow, closed door across the room, and she moved toward it. According to the floor plans Norah had found, that should lead to the stairs to the second level. She moved quickly, wanting to get out of the haunted kitchen as soon as possible, and her hip bumped against the edge of a metal chair, making it rattle as it slid a few inches across the scarred linoleum floor.
Molly froze, listening for any sound indicating that the residents of the house had heard, but the low rumble of John’s voice and Mother Tick’s higher-pitched responses didn’t change. There was no movement on the s
econd floor—at least not that Molly could hear—so she finished crossing the kitchen, taking care not to bump into anything else.
The knob felt cold in her grip, and she shivered as she turned it. Don’t let this spooky, dark house freak you out, the practical part of her brain warned. Straightening her shoulders, she pulled the door open, revealing a narrow, steep flight of stairs that climbed into an even deeper darkness above.
What do these people have against natural light—or any light, for that matter? Molly wondered. She kept her flashlight low as she climbed, wincing at every squeak and crack of the steps under her weight. Reaching the top, she started to place her foot down, then froze at the faintest hint of pressure against her shin.
As she looked down, pointing the tiny flashlight at her feet, she saw the shine of a silver wire stretching across the top step about eight inches off the floor. Carefully stepping over the trip wire, she hoped that the slight tug hadn’t been enough to trigger whatever it was connected to. Her heart thundered in her chest at the close call, and she wanted more than anything to run back down the stairs, grab John, and leave this spooky, dark house and all of its booby traps behind. They could go home and take Warrant for a nice walk in the national forest behind her house before making dinner with her sisters, all of them happily mashed into the tiny kitchen together.
The only problem was that if she didn’t bring in Sonny Zarver, that house wouldn’t be hers for much longer.
Resolved, she crept forward down a short hallway. There were three doors, one on either side and the last one straight ahead. She paused to listen, hoping to get a hint as to which one Sonny was in, but there was only silence. Unable to hear John or Mother Tick anymore, she suddenly felt very alone. As she shifted, the board under her feet gave a soft creak, and she went still for a long moment, fully expecting one of the three doors to bang open, revealing a murderous Sonny intent on keeping his freedom. Nothing moved. It felt as if even the house was holding its breath.
Knowing that the longer she hesitated, the greater the chance of them all being blown to pieces, Molly picked the door on her left at random. It was locked. Of course it is. She quickly ran through her options, deciding that picking the lock would be a last resort, since it would take more precious time than she wanted to spare and, although not especially noisy, the small sounds could easily catch Sonny’s attention.
