Fateful Attractions

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Fateful Attractions Page 3

by Lucretia Stanhope


  He raised his brows, and ate a third beignet. “Anything I can help with?”

  She told him briefly that Dillon was the sheriff and he was out investigating something unusual. “I’m just worried for him.”

  “That’s the job. At least it’s not a big city.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but after hearing Sergei tell Dmitry the sheriff was likely part of why he wasn’t able to get closer to her, knowing that he was on her mind was a bit of a smack. “Why don’t you give me a tour. We can bring bread and leave a trail in case we get lost.”

  She agreed and poured them both another cup of coffee before they started. Fresh cups in hand, they made a tour of the bottom two floors.

  “What’s up there?” Shane nodded toward the stairs. “Feels magical.”

  “Good guess.” She started away from the stairs. “Maybe later for that. You want to drive to town before it gets too late? I’m sure Mel has something delicious for dinner.” She turned back to him. “When did you need to head out?”

  He walked to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m not leaving until whatever has you so worried is resolved.”

  She looked up to get a read on him and felt almost caught in his gaze. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, Dillon will handle it.”

  “Maybe you will be fine, but what you won’t be is alone.” He used a steady reassuring tone.

  Her head rested on his chest and breathed in the smell of beach that still lingered on him. “Your shop?”

  “Will be just fine.”

  She liked the idea of him staying, but night was approaching and with it came monsters. “I…”

  “You are upset. Come on, let’s go eat, meet this Mel and make sure your friend is okay.”

  Everyone usually gave her options, let her decide things. Even Dmitry gave her a say. Right then she needed and enjoyed that Shane had taken away the need for her to be in control. She relaxed in his strong embrace and allowed him to decide what they were doing. That freed her to worry about Dillon.

  Later, if he did stay around, she would assert her need to be in control.

  On the way out, she stopped and packed a few of the leftovers for Dillon.

  “We’re taking snacks to a diner?” Shane looked at the package she was making as she filled a thermos with some coffee.

  “It’s going to be a late night for the boys at the station.”

  He watched her while she finished, thinking she was really too sweet to be mixed up with things like Dmitry. He knew that Sergei lived in her basement, and there was also a creature next door, who had some history with her.

  She looked over to see him watching her with a grin on his face, which she returned. “I’m glad you are here.”

  That’s more like it, he thought. “No place I’d rather be.”

  “Not even the beach?” She stepped closer and kissed his jaw.

  “Not without you.” He gathered the bag with her sheriff’s treats and they started out.

  Chapter Three

  “G ot that history in, Sheriff.”

  Dillon looked up from the awful notes and pictures on his desk. He reached out and took the manila folder from his deputy. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  The dark circles Charlie wore almost matched the shade of brown of both his short-cropped hair and his distressed looking eyes. He was tall and lanky, but looked extra frail as he stood there waiting for Dillon to have something reassuring to say.

  Unlike Dillon who grew up in a city, and spent some time working a much darker beat, Charlie grew up in a small town and never saw anything like what they spent all afternoon looking at.

  “Go home. I’ve got this.” Dillon waved him away.

  “You sure, boss?” His voice held a hope in it that said he needed to go and wash off the darkness of the day.

  Dillon knew from experience nothing carried away the memories of something like what they’d just witnessed. He’d seen his share of the ugly side of human behavior and once you knew what hid behind the eyes of some men, you were different. “Yeah, I’ll call if something new turns up.”

  Charlie left before Dillon had a chance to change his mind.

  Dillon sipped his now cold coffee. The liquid went down reluctantly, but he knew the caffeine would help. He stacked the ME’s initial report, with the crime scene photos, off to the side of his desk.

  His eyes lingered on the top picture. The body of the victim lay splayed out in the center of a white powdered circle. There were burnt candles, dead animals, and random things he wasn’t sure about yet. A black sack covered the face of the man who had his heart removed in a less than precise manner. The jagged cuts and splintered bone gave it a savage appearance. The symbols carved into the man’s flesh meant nothing to Dillon, but he felt sure they would to an occult specialist.

  He already sent everything to the right people at other agencies to check for any similarities. Any overlapping angles could mean a case was already being worked. That would be the best. The idea a passing lunatic struck, rather than someone in his town, gave him a small amount of comfort, something to hope for.

  He pulled out the papers in the envelope Charlie left with him.

  Bradly Harrison, sixty-nine, married, father of three, seven grandchildren. Lived in Baton Rouge. Taught at several schools over his lifetime, all in the New Orleans and Baton Rouge vicinity.

  Dillon swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Please no,” he muttered.

  He looked at his phone, it was getting late. She was probably at Mel’s with Shane. Most likely trying to relax and enjoy time with her friend. Maybe there was no connection. They were highly populated areas. What were the odds? The odds of it being a random unconnected person that showed up dead in her town seemed slim.

  Now was where he had to weigh job versus life. He could call and ask her about a connection, but if there were one, it could be seen as giving away valuable information. If there were a connection, he would have to drop the case and give it to, who? All of his men knew Gwen. Maybe there was no connection. He could have Charlie question her on that and then decide.

  Could it wait? If the FBI got involved, it would look bad if he didn’t have her questioned as soon as the possible link landed on his desk. Or should he even be drawing a link? Maybe he was just being cautious because he loved her, and wanted to protect her. There was no reason to think she might know the man. How many teachers were there in the area?

  He leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes. He knew the right thing. There was no way he could justify calling or even going to Mel’s to ask her. The law was his life, procedure dictated he tell Charlie about his thoughts and have her questioned by him.

  A curse drifted from his mouth, and he drank the rest of his cold coffee. Before he had a chance to make the wrong decision, he called Charlie, who was still in the building.

  “She was going to be at Mel’s. I don’t want to make a scene.”

  Charlie looked at him like he had two heads.

  “What? I don’t want to embarrass her.” Dillon watched his deputy narrow his eyes.

  “Gwen and Shane are out front, that’s why I didn’t leave yet. I got held up chatting with them. He’s a funny guy. She brought beignets and coffee.” Charlie took the file. “There’s probably nothing here. It’s a big city. I’ll discreetly take her back while you chat with her boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend?

  Dillon let that go and walked to the front to find Gwen and the receptionist laughing at something Shane was doing. As soon as she saw Dillon, Gwen stopped laughing.

  She lifted her hand to her mouth, rushed over to him, and put both hands on his face. No one ever looked great under the florescent light at the station, but he looked extra washed out. His aura was weak and his eyes were pained. “You look awful. What’s going on? I brought you coffee and dessert.”

  “I’m fine.” He gave her a fast hug while he looked over the man he assumed was Shane. The ‘all too good looking’ and ‘way too happy’ man. “Coffee an
d sugar are essential. You always know just what I need.”

  Shane managed to keep his smile unbroken, while he watched the exchange. He saw the same thing Sergei had. There was a connection. He couldn’t worry about that, he needed to weasel in, long enough to get the monster off his back, then they could carry on and he would be on his way.

  Shane rapped his hand on the desk. “Absolute joy, Ronda. I’d love to hear more about the little killer.” He nodded to the little dog behind the desk with her, his eyes lingering on her long, tan legs that reminded him of Megan, who was due a call soon.

  “Gwen, can I have a word?” Charlie walked over and stood beside her and Dillon.

  Gwen looked from him to Dillon and back to Shane. “Umm, sure.”

  “Go on, I’ll take Killer for a walk. I could use the fresh air, and I’ll show Shane the old jail.” Dillon smiled as friendly as he could. His stomach balled up at leaving her unarmed for the questions.

  Gwen walked off with Charlie, and Dillon walked around the counter, attaching a leash to the little solid chocolate colored dog that both wagged his tail and growled at him. “Don’t mind him, he’s bipolar.” Dillon looked at Shane and then back to Ronda. “Save me a beignet, and one cuppa’ joe. That smells divine.”

  Ronda nodded, not a hair of her perfectly cut, strawberry bob moved. As the two men turned to leave, her soft gray eyes watched Dillon.

  “She’s a fabulous cook.” Shane said as they walked outside.

  “That she is.” He sighed, not sure he could do small talk, all things considered. “You in town long?”

  “As long as she needs. I gather something ugly is happening and I’d rather not leave her alone in her big empty place.” Shane watched as his words took the smile off the sheriff’s face. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “No, I’m not exactly sure yet.” He stopped to let Killer sniff a tree. “I’m glad she won’t be alone.”

  “It’s related to her?” Shane stopped, put both of his hands in his pockets, and looked Dillon over. They were pretty close in stature and age. He couldn’t imagine being responsible for the safety of a whole town at his age. He wasn’t even ready for a pet, or a plant for that matter. The weight of having his own shop was more than he ever expected and a bit much at times.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He frowned and started walking again. They neared a smaller brick building with an older look to it. “They love history here in the wild west.” Dillon nodded toward the building. “You can go inside. Have a look at the cells the gunslingers stayed in?”

  “You going to let me back out, or is this what you do to city folk before you show them the err of their ways?” Shane laughed.

  Dillon chuckled. “I’m a city folk myself, partner.”

  “So, you and Gwen both grew up in a city and decided to stay in a place like this?” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Takes all kinds.” He ran his fingers over the old bars. “Anyone famous locked up here?”

  “Depends on which old-timer you listen to.” The dog whined a little and Dillon picked him up and cradled him in one arm. “You stay long enough and you’ll never want to leave. I think they drug the water.”

  “In that case, I’ll stick to beer. There a good bar?”

  Dillon stroked the dog, almost irritated at how friendly Shane was. He didn’t want to like him. “No, but if you are here when I get a day off, I’ll take you to my favorite drinking spot.”

  “Spot?”

  “On Gwen’s lake.”

  “Fishing? That’s something I can get behind.” Shane sat down on the hard metal bed. “She has a lake?”

  “Her and Sebastian have a lake between their estates.”

  “Sebastian?” Shane heard that name a few times at meetings. The creature next door that had some history with her.

  “You’ll probably meet him if you hang out more than a few days. He keeps an eye on her. Been a family friend for years.” Dillon looked back toward the station house.

  Shane felt he was struggling with something. “Charlie seemed nice enough, what’s got you so worried?”

  “He’s good people, everyone here is. That’s why this feels wrong. This isn’t the type of thing that happens here.” He frowned. “I can’t say more.”

  “Of course not.” Shane walked out of the jail and they started down the narrow sidewalk again.

  “Make sure she locks that place up tonight. I’m not sure what the hell is going on.” Dillon leaned down and put the dog on the ground. It looked up at him and whimpered. “Don’t sass me, dog. Tinkle now so we can go inside.”

  Shane laughed. “Tinkle?”

  “Yeah, that happens here too. You get used to talking with little old ladies and sweet people who would never dare say, piss.” The night settled around them and the automatic lights came on, casting a brighter light on them. When Shane flashed him a big smile he wanted to smack him and yell, go back to your damn city and beach, but instead he said, “They’re probably done.”

  G wen looked at the blown up driver’s license picture again. “No, I’m sorry. Is this the person you found, the body?”

  “Bradly Harrison, ring a bell?” Charlie tried to remain objective but he knew Gwen and could tell from her expression, she didn’t recognize the man.

  She shook her head, “No, should he?”

  Charlie pursed his lips and pushed another picture toward her.

  She stood, the metal chair falling back. “Jesus, Charlie, why are you showing me that?” Her hands started to shake. “Who would do that?” She stepped closer to the small metal table and looked at the picture again, still trembling.

  The wounds and symbols were magic related. Not light magic like she used, something much darker.

  Her mind drifted to Fannie. Could she be back? Was this related to her? Were her friends in danger? Dillon? “What did you say he did? Why was he here?” She pushed away the photo and focused back on his face.

  “He was a retired teacher from New Orleans, Baton Rouge schools, English.”

  “Bradly Harrison. Dear God, Mr. Harrison? Do you have a list of where he taught?” She held the edge of the table so tight her knuckles turned white.

  “You had a teacher, Mr. Harrison?” Charlie stepped beside her and offered some support.

  She nodded and swallowed a few times. Both of her hands rested on the table and she closed her eyes. “Charlie, I need water.”

  “Gwen?” Charlie stepped closer and watched the color drain from her face. He caught her before she fell and guided her back into the chair. Not wanting to leave her he radioed Dillon. “Sheriff, Gwen’s passing out, hurry, bring water.”

  Dillon and Shane exchanged looks, and raced inside, leaving the dog with Ronda. Dillon didn’t bother to pull rank and make Shane wait out front, he wanted to get to Gwen as fast as he could.

  Shane followed him down a few corridors and through the door he flung open. On the way to her, Dillon noted the pictures laying out. “Damnit why is she looking at that?” He wrapped her in his arms and looked at her eyes. “Gwen, what is it, honey? Does any of this mean anything to you?”

  Her lip quivered. “He was my middle school English teacher. I knew him. Did you see what they did to him? Dillon, who did that? Why here? Who could do that?”

  Shane discreetly let his eyes drift to the photo. It was grizzly, and would have been enough to chase him away under any normal circumstances, but it wasn’t more grizzly than what would happen if he let Dmitry down. Time to make the most of the disgusting situation.

  Dillon stood beside her, his arms still fully encasing her. “Okay, get water, Charlie, water and sugar.” He let his eyes drift to Shane who stood just the other side of the table.

  The intercom came on and Ronda’s voice filled the room. “Dillon, FBI on line one, Agent Linder.”

  “Shit,” Dillon muttered. “Can you, can you…” He couldn’t get the rest of the words to come out. He didn’t want to walk away. “Make sure she eats and drinks, if she g
ets cold I need to know. We might want the EMT to make sure she isn’t in shock. I’m sorry he showed you that, sweetestheart.”

  Gwen looked up at him with wide eyes, and a stunned look. “Go, find out what monster did this.”

  Shane stepped over. “I’ve got her.” He slid easily where Dillon had been standing, and watched him walk out. “It’s going to be okay. You are not alone with this. We will find the witch who did that.” He knew that was an angle Dillon couldn’t play.

  “We can’t let them hurt the people here. They can’t defend, we …” She put her hand over her mouth. “Why him, here, now? Middle school English.” Her mind drifted. It was too far back and she was too shaken to make any connections, other than she had a crush on him. All the girls did.

  Charlie came back and Shane watched while Gwen ate a doughnut and drank a glass of water. “Should we wait for Dillon?” He asked Charlie, still gently rubbing her back.

  “Yeah, they may have news that will make her feel better. I’m really sorry the picture upset you so much. I didn’t think. Well I should have thought…” Charlie walked over and cleared the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He looked at Shane. “You want coffee?”

  “I’m good. You need anything else?” he asked Gwen and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

  “No, no.” She looked at Charlie. “Can we go outside; I need some air?”

  “Of course.”

  Gwen and Shane followed Charlie back to the front where Ronda looked puzzled, as they silently walked outside.

  “I’m sorry all this happened on your visit.” She leaned against him and enjoyed the way his arm felt wrapped around her.

  “None of that. I’m glad I was here. You don’t need to be alone.” He tucked her tighter under his arm. “That was ritual. We’ll figure it out.”

  We? She wanted him there, wanted someone who at least had a small understanding of what they faced. Was it fair not to give him a better understanding if he were going to stay and help her? “What about your shop, your life at the beach? This could take a while.”

 

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