by Ani Gonzalez
"Put on your seatbelts," Mary commanded.
Myrtle ignored her.
"The coordinates are in," Larry said.
A dashboard screen lit up. A glowing green dot marked their destination.
"Got it," Mary replied, driving out of the library parking lot at top speed. She headed down Main Street and into the fields that surrounded the town. They passed several picturesque farms, the green dot growing closer.
Finally, they turned into a gravel road. Mary kept driving. They were almost there.
Luanne's phone rang. It was Sean.
"Hello?" She wondered how she would explain her current predicament. Best not to try.
"Luanne?" Sean's voice sounded strained. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I could use a favor. Am I catching you at a bad time?"
The van swerved and she grabbed the door strap for balance.
"No," she breathed. "Not at all."
"We're looking for Rafe's lost merchandise," he said. "I have the PRoVE guys out and also a couple of my own staff. They've been at it all day, but haven't found anything. I'm about to give up and declare this a burglary."
"It's not a burglary," Luanne heard Caine shout.
"Oh, shut up," Sean replied. "Anyway, we were wondering if you could, you know, look into it."
Luanne sighed. Now he believed in her gift. His timing was impeccable.
"I don't have to," she said, as Mary turned into a clearing in the middle of the woods.
"What?" Sean replied.
The glade was covered in tall grass, but the middle section was taken up by what looked to be rocks, neatly piled one on top of the other. They all craned their necks, trying to identify what they were looking at. Even Myrtle seemed interested. She took a pair of binoculars out of her bag and trained them on the glade.
Mary drove the van nearer, and Luanne got a clear look at the mound.
It wasn't rocks.
"What do you mean?" Sean asked.
"I don't have to look," Luanne replied. "Because I just found them."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"YEP, WE got them all." Sean said into the office phone. "The ones from Rafe's shop and also a bunch more from your guys and the folks in Leesburg. No, I'm not sure why they dumped them there." He listened to the Reston police liaison. "It could have been a gang, yes. They could have messed up the drop-off and just panicked." More listening. "Yep, absolutely. We're happy to help out."
He hung up and leaned back in his desk chair. It was late in the day, the station was quiet, and the "I Want to Believe Poster" stared down at him from its spot high up on the wall.
"Sorry, Mulder," he said to the black and white relic. "No luck this time."
Reston and Leesburg were chalking this up to a gang of thieves working in multiple jurisdictions. They were taking the case off his hands.
And that was perfectly fine by him. He'd gotten Rafe's property back. The neighboring counties were grateful to have their stolen goods returned. Luanne and the UFO loons had left the clearing before the other police departments had arrived, so no one mentioned devil monkeys, or flying saucers, or xenoastrology.
And he was very grateful for that.
According to Luanne and—what's his name?—Larry, there would be no other hoarding incidents. The big, fat alien encounter was supposed to happen tomorrow night. Everything would be quiet until then.
Or so he'd been told.
Olivia peeked into his office. "How's it going? Did they buy it?"
"Yes," Sean replied. "Hook, line, and sinker."
"Good. I have enough paperwork as it is. I don't need to file triplicate forms on the storage habits of the Virginia devil monkey." She smiled at him. "Are you coming to the party tonight?"
Party? What party? Oh, wait, hadn't Luanne said that there was a UFO shindig tonight? It was a gala something or other.
"No." He glanced at his phone. "No, I'm expecting a call from the feds soon. I wasn't invited anyway."
Olivia nodded. "That's because you yelled at them when you saw the pile of auto parts."
"I didn't yell. I merely explained our evidence gathering protocols in an authoritative manner."
"Uh-huh." Olivia rolled her eyes. "You freaked out when you saw them going through Rafe's merchandise. They could hear you all the way in Pennsylvania."
Now that was an exaggeration. He hadn't freaked out. He'd just been firm and authoritative. "That Larry guy was moving things around. I had to stop it."
"You certainly did that," she replied grinning. "He won't be moving much else in town. You made sure of that."
A thought struck him. "You're going to the party?"
"Yep. I'm going home to change." Her smile grew wider. "I'm going to put glitter everywhere. I'll sparkle so much, I'll blind the flying saucer hunters."
She probably would. Her outfit at the town's Fourth of July picnic had put the fireworks to shame. "Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything suspicious. We still haven't figured out the pyramid scam. Someone at the party may know something."
Olivia looked skeptical. "These guys? They're puffballs."
They certainly looked like it, he had to admit. The middle-aged lady—Mclure?—and the red-haired Larry guy seemed clueless eccentrics, but still, there was something about the AASC that bothered him. Something about them was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Just keep your eyes peeled," he said.
Olivia nodded, looking unconvinced, and left his office. It wouldn't make a difference, though. Olivia was a consummate professional, as well as smart and observant. If anything happened during that party, she'd find out about it.
And so would he.
He reached for a stack of flyers sitting on his desk. The purple Lucky Ghost flyer was on top. Then there was the yellow Lucky Alien one, followed by a black and white one with a bat on it. The Salem police department had sent him a Lucky Witch flyer, and the New Orleans cops had chipped in with the Lucky Zombie.
This scam had been going on for a while. Long enough that the feds had gotten involved.
The Lucky Ghost scam, however, was definitely the first one. That was the flyer that the dead guy had held in his hand.
He reached for the file Olivia had printed out for him. William S. Darling. Fifty-nine years old. Divorced. No children. Retired salesman with several years of Army Reserve service. As far as anyone knew, he was a model citizen.
A model citizen who emptied his bank accounts, sold his car, took a plane from his rental home in Colorado to Dulles International Airport, and then a bus to Banshee Creek.
And died here, with a Lucky Ghost flyer under his arm.
The autopsy report had, as he'd expected, ruled out suicide. This was now officially a murder investigation.
But as far as anyone could tell, Mr. Darling had no connection to Banshee Creek. He'd never visited the town, and he had no family or friends here. He had no contact with any of the local groups, not even through social media. According to his plane ticket, he'd had a carry-on bag, but they had not found it yet.
Why had he come to Banshee Creek? And what had happened to him here?
Visitors came to Banshee Creek all the time, but this was the town's quiet season. The only event going on at the moment was the AASC convention. Olivia had reported that the UFO crowd claimed not to recognize Mr. Darling, but what if they were lying?
The phone rang and he picked it up hastily. "Stickley, here."
"Good evening, we're calling from FinCEN." The federal agents introduced themselves while Sean took notes. Cops sometimes mocked the agents who made up the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network as mere pointy-headed accountants, but Sean had worked with them on several cases and he knew that no one was better at tracing money than FinCEN.
And that was what the Lucky Ghost scam was about. Money.
And money, as Sean well knew, makes people ruthless.
He grabbed a sheet of paper with the Banshee Creek Fire & Rescue seal. "I have a couple of n
ames for you."
Thanks to the fire department's insanely intrusive permit process, he had the names and personal information of all the members of the Alien Abduction Survivors Club. Once FinCEN ran them through their database, they'd be able to figure out if the AASC members were involved in anything shady or if, as Olivia believed, they were just a bunch of silly puffballs.
It wasn't much, but it was all he had right now. "Thanks. We'll keep in touch." The feds hung up, and Sean was left staring at the ceiling.
That was it for today. The devil monkey case was, hopefully, done. He'd have to wait for FinCEN to get back to him regarding the pyramid scheme. His New York contacts had no leads on Luanne's premonition, which seemed to indicate she was wrong this time.
But he still had the nagging feeling that she wasn't mistaken. Something about her words, particularly the emphasis on revenge as a motive, bothered him.
He stood and stared at the papers on his desk. He was missing something.
Feeling like an idiot, he bent and opened an equipment request form on his computer. He typed in a few words and checked a couple of boxes, then he put in his electronic signature. There. He was done.
He grabbed his jacket, waved good bye to the night shift, and headed for his car.
Luanne would be at the stupid alien party, so he'd be eating single-serve microwave chili for dinner. It wasn't what he'd wanted to do tonight, but he'd go to the gym, review his notes from the Lucky Ghost case, and make the best of it.
It could be worse; at least he wasn't attending the E.T. Birthday celebration.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"AND, LAST but not least, the award for Best Hypnotic Regression," Mary McLure announced in a loud voice. "Goes to Mrs. Myrtle Watson."
Myrtle had coordinated her bright pink hair with a silver sequined gown topped with her trademark nebulae scarf. She walked up to the podium, still holding her precious quilted bag, grinning and making victory signs.
"Please shoot me now," Kat muttered, reluctantly joining in the applause.
"Aw, I like Myrtle," Luanne replied, clapping energetically. "She's a hoot."
"She thinks little green men stole her yorkie-poo, Tribble, and took it to Europa, the moon not the continent."
"She's having fun, though. We could all follow her example."
Myrtle, in fact, was leading the crowd into a rousing rendition of "We Are The Champions." Her fellow club members, however, did not seem enthusiastic. The awards ceremony was almost over and everyone seemed to be drunk and exhausted. Luanne herself was quite tired. A two-hour documentary on the history of Project Blue Book had been followed by a panel discussion on "Weather Balloon Data: Hoax, Conspiracy, or Both?" It had been a real snooze fest. Kat had cracked an X-Files joke during the presentation, but the table next to her had shushed her. These guys were dead serious about their hobby.
"At least someone is," Kat said, looking around. "This group really doesn't know how to party."
She was right. The AASC members seemed to be more into their pseudo-scientific presentations than into socializing. Larry was showing off his faux gold ingots and the table next to them was engrossed by a large map of the Banshee Creek area.
"I have to confess," Olivia said from her seat next to Kat. "This isn't what I was expecting." She took a drink from her glass of water. "They should have called the PRoVE folks. Those guys know how to throw a party." She glared at the water bottles on the table. "They don't even have a cash bar."
"There's a green punch going around. People seem to like it," Luanne said, glancing at the tipsy-looking woman on the next table.
"I saw it," Olivia grumbled. "It looks and smells like glow-in-the-dark lighter fluid. I'm not that desperate."
Kat grabbed a water bottle. "Hey, at least this is certified free of 'barium, thorium, aluminum salts. and nano tracking devices.' They ran tests on our tap water to make sure it was fit for drinking." She placed the bottle back on the table. "Apparently, it's not."
"Great." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Just what we need, hallucinogenic water rumors. As if the geomagnetic fault line wasn't bad enough."
"We could split and head for the pizzeria," Kat said. "They have lots of alcohol."
Olivia shook her head. "I have to stick around. I'm supposed to be doing some investigating. Anyway," she eyed the gleaming saucer-shaped trophies in front of them, "you can't leave right after you get your prizes. It would be rude."
Kat sighed. "True." She grabbed her trophy. "This award for 'Best Post-Abduction Recovery Product' will look fabulous next to the botánica's body care display."
Olivia smiled. "What does yours say, Luanne?"
Luanne turned her trophy around and read the inscription. "Outstanding Technical Support to the Cause of Human-Alien Relations."
Kat laughed. "Good gravy. What did you do?"
Luanne shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure."
Olivia gave her a sharp look. "Whatever it was, that Mary woman was really impressed. She kept talking about your calculations, and how you seemed to know exactly where things would be."
Luanne shrugged. "It wasn't all that complicated. The devil monkeys seemed to be tracking Venus across Capricorn. That particular star and planet alignment hasn't been seen in decades."
Since nineteen eighty-six, in fact. It had happened twice before then, and wouldn't happen again for a few more decades. The UFO group had been really excited about that.
Olivia frowned. "The mangy raccoons were tracking the stars? Are you serious?"
Luanne shrugged. "It's actually pretty common. Moon phases affect animal behavior. Why wouldn't the stars do so as well?"
Olivia looked thoughtful. "Some of these guys seemed a little bitter about you being the one who figured that out, particularly that Larry guy."
"Really?" Luanne glanced at Larry, who kept polishing his fake gold ingots. "I didn't notice. They told me they're looking forward to the landing site meet-up tomorrow night."
"Maybe he's jealous that you were the one who found the site."
Kat's eyes narrowed as she turned toward Olivia. "You really are wearing your detective hat tonight. Aren't you?"
Olivia sighed. "I have to. I'm supposed to keep my eyes open." She scanned the room dourly. "Even if I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Sheriff BossGuy insists."
"Sean?" Luanne asked. "I didn't think he was that demanding."
Kat raised a brow. "You would know, wouldn't you?"
Luanne jerked. "Hey, what—"
Kat gave her a knowing look. "Your neighbor is one of my clients. She comes by every week for a poltergeist mitigation charm because your housemate is always making a racket. Yesterday, she asked for an extra dose, saying that the ghost must be in rare form because Sheriff Stickley had been called to the house twice."
"Oh," Luanne said.
"I know Honoria doesn't cause you that much trouble, so I put two and two together." Kat grinned. "He's very handsome."
"Whoa," Olivia exclaimed. "This I did not know. You move fast, girl. He's quite a catch. We're very lucky to have him. His resume is amazing and cops with seniority don't want to come to Banshee Creek to deal with ghost sightings and demon portals."
"He worked in the N.Y.P.D.," Luanne noted. "This must be quite a change for him."
Olivia nodded. "It's a change for us too. We're a lot more efficient and streamlined now. Sean doesn't mess around. He is dead freaking serious about his work. That's probably why..."
Her voice trailed off.
"Why he had to leave Manhattan," Luanne finished for her, thinking about the scars on Sean's back and his ominous tarot reading.
Olivia grimaced. "I can't comment about that. I've already said too much."
Luanne looked down at the plain white tablecloth. Sparkly stars and planets were strewn across it in a fairly pathetic attempt at festive decor. "Have you considered that maybe there's a reason he's here? That maybe he had to leave New York?"
Kat frowned. "You mean he got into trouble?"
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Olivia snorted. "Trust me. Saint Sean Stickley hasn't put a foot wrong his entire career. I know his type."
Luanne shook her head. "No, I mean he found trouble."
Olivia took another sip of water. "You think someone's out to get him."
Luanne noted her friend's cautious tone. "Yes, and so do you."
Olivia shook her head. "I've said nothing."
"You don't have to," Kat interjected. "Is something going to happen, Luanne?"
"I hope not," Luanne replied. "Just keep your eyes open, Olivia. Please."
"You sound like Sean now." Olivia set her glass down. "I will. Not that I believe in any of the hocus pocus, of course."
"Naturally," Luanne replied.
"I do have reason to believe," Olivia said, looking like she was choosing her words carefully, "that your fears are misplaced. There doesn't appear to be any immediate threat."
Luanne nodded, somewhat relieved. Apparently Sean had taken her warnings to heart. She didn't know what he'd asked Olivia to do—hopefully, it involved lots of Kevlar—but it had apparently set her friend's mind at ease.
"I'll keep both eyes peeled." Olivia got up from her chair, her silver gown gleaming. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm going to do my Nancy Drew thing."
Luanne watched her walk away. She looked up and met Kat's concerned eyes.
"You're really worried, aren't you?"
Luanne pasted a confident smile on her face. "It's going to be okay."
"What's going to be okay?" a cheery voice said behind her.
Luanne turned to greet Mary McLure. "Oh, just my horoscopes for next month. I have to rush to meet the deadline, but it should be okay."
Mary patted her on the shoulder. "Good thing. A lot of people depend on those horoscopes." She seemed to catch herself. "Not me personally, of course."
Kat chuckled. "That seems to be tonight's theme."
Luanne nodded, but she felt uneasy. It was probably just the aftermath of her conversation with Olivia. She still hadn't recovered from her vision.
"We are honored you chose to award these to us." Kat waved her hand over their trophies. "And sad that we have to leave. Unfortunately, we both have busy days tomorrow."
