He rounded a corner and headed to the parked car.
A portly figure came toward him, huffing a bit from exertion. “Deputy Waters, you’re just the man I want to see.” Reverend Frasier McNaughton put a hand out to stop the deputy.
“What can I do for you, Reverend?” Aiden asked. He liked the tall, ginger Methodist minister who carried too much weight but had a big heart for the more unfortunate of his congregation. McNaughton had come to the Wetumpka Methodist church with a long list of community projects and the enthusiasm to push them forward. He had members of the congregation working nights and weekends on construction, clean up, food distribution, you name it. Labors of love, he called the projects for the poor.
“We’re holding the Habitat for Humanity build tomorrow and there’ll be a lumber truck offloading at the site on West Ninth. I don’t want any traffic issues. Could you possibly arrange for some road blockades, just until we get the lumber off the truck?”
“Sure thing. What time?”
“Ten tomorrow. Thank you, Aiden. Will you be helping us?”
“I plan to be there at eight. I’m always happy to swing a hammer for a good cause.”
“If I were fit and in shape, I’d be more help.” Reverend McNaughton sighed. “I just love the sweets Martha Causey bakes. It’s a sad thing when my appetite outstrips my will power. Gluttony is a sin, as we all know.”
Aiden knew the minister had lost his wife before he’d moved to Wetumpka, and they’d been a childless couple. The preacher was on his own. “A few baked goods won’t hurt. When the time is right maybe you’ll start joining me at the gym for a workout.”
“Don’t hold your breath. I’m more of a reader than a weight lifter. Which is why I’m eager to visit the Book Basket tomorrow. Tammy got another shipment of old manuscripts and books in from an estate sale. She always lets me rummage through them.”
“Tell Tammy I send my regards.” Aiden started to walk away but stopped. “Everything good with the congregation?”
“What could be wrong? The choir is rehearsing for the Christmas cantata, and Miss Mildred’s arthritis has let up and she’s back at the organ. I just got the church closed up after choir practice.”
“Just checking. Have a good evening.” Aiden watched the minister bustle down the street, which was now empty. He got in a cruiser and went to check the stolen bicycle report, wondering if his transfer to Wetumpka had been a waste of time. In the six months he’d been in residence, nothing untoward had happened. The abduction and murder of a young Montgomery woman on her way home from Wetumpka had shown the signature of John Wexler, a serial killer he’d been tracking. But so far, if Wexler was in the Wetumpka area, he was keeping a low profile.
Aiden cruised the streets of the sleepy town, taking pleasure in the serenity and sense of security, torn between his desire to find a lead on Wexler and his pleasure at living in a town where bad guys seemed to be at a minimum. Wetumpka had sprung into being as a river community just north of the state capitol of Montgomery. The location had once been considered as the site for the state capitol, but Montgomery, on the Alabama River, had won out. Past the rugged terrain of Wetumpka, the land calmed and flattened until it gave onto the foothills of the Appalachian mountain chain.
This town was the perfect set-up for John Wexler’s sick behavior. His MO was to insinuate himself into the fabric of a small city, then residents began to disappear. Sometimes it took months to find their bodies, all strangled with Phantom nylon stockings, a popular brand before World War II.
The young woman who’d been murdered had been strangled with the same brand of nylons, and her body had been dumped into the river, eventually discovered in Montgomery County. That was the case that drew Aiden to the area. He’d located in Wetumpka rather than Montgomery because Wexler preferred a smaller city. But if Wexler was in Wetumpka, Aiden hadn’t seen a hint of him.
He drove down Main Street, slowing in front of the Book Basket. It was coming on midnight, and he’d occasionally found Tammy working on her accounting late at night, but not this evening. The store was shuttered and locked.
But the store held interest for Aiden other than the beautiful proprietress. Tammy had hired a part-time worker, Benjy Miller, a man who’d moved to Wetumpka back in the late spring. He was quiet and kept to himself but had opened a yoga and meditation center that he ran in the evenings. Tammy called him a bookworm, but Aiden had a bad feeling about him. He drank at the Crater Bar with some of the rough necks, which didn’t fit in with Aiden’s idea of a meditation kind of guy. He was difficult to engage in conversation, and he slunk. It was the only word to describe his posture and gait.
The storefront was locked and quiet, and in the background Aiden saw the neon outline of a cat. Tammy’s trademark. She fed several colonies of stray cats around town, trapping, neutering, vaccinating, and releasing the felines. She jokingly said it was her mission from God.
The front sign of the Book Basket was a wicker basket of books and a curious black cat peeping over the side, based on her cat, no doubt. Trouble. Well named. The cat seemed significantly more intelligent than the average run of the mill short-haired cat. More alert. Even more…aware. Aiden liked and appreciated the cat—and the feelings were mutual. Whenever he stopped by the Book Basket on the pretense of finding a good thriller to read, Trouble always greeted him with affection. Tammy and Trouble—an intriguing duo.
Before he went back to the station, he drove by Benjy Miller’s apartment complex just off the highway. He didn’t expect to see the part time meditation guru outside, so Aiden was a little shocked when he recognized the man’s big SUV. Benjy, dressed all in black, moved furtively up the stairs of the complex, disappearing inside the door of his home.
What was it about the man that set Aiden’s teeth on edge? He couldn’t say, except the Benjy had a furtive aspect to him, as if he was always hiding something.
No matter. The only thing Benjy Miller appeared to be up to was going home from a late evening. Aiden continued on to the sheriff’s department, parked the cruiser, and went inside to conclude his paperwork. In all likelihood, the morning shift would find the stolen bicycle abandoned somewhere near the city park. Kids.
The routine of the sheriff’s office hummed around him and he focused on the reports at hand.
Tammy came to with sandpaper grinding into her cheek. She opened her eyes slowly, aware her limbs didn’t want to move and she was freezing. Dawn had awakened the world along with her.
“Me-ow!” Trouble sat on her chest and stared down at her. When she didn’t move or speak, the cat licked the tender skin below her eye.
“That hurts.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. She knew where she was and what she’d come to do. What she couldn’t remember was how she’d ended up flat on her back in the middle of the woods.
The cat stepped aside so she could push herself into a sitting position, leaning against a big boulder. Her head was throbbing, and when she touched it, she felt a large goose-egg. Better out than in, her mother had always told her about head bumps. The common wisdom was that if the bump formed on the outside, the prognosis was better than a bump that caused swelling inside the brain.
At the moment Tammy felt like there might be plenty of room in her skull for a little swelling. She’d been foolish to come to Rook’s Vantage by herself. Foolish. Even though she’d grown up riding her bicycle over the historic city streets, steep hills, and wooded lanes, things had changed in the last ten years. She could have been injured or killed. And even more foolish was this attempt to link to a long gone past.
“Let’s pack up and clear out,” she said to the cat. “I’ll come back in the daytime for the telescope.”
She was eager to get off the ridge and to safety. The person who’d jumped out of the bushes and knocked her down—and left her injured—might still be near. The attack had seemed deliberate, and Tammy wondered why? Like her, the man who’d rammed into her was trespassing, for one. Maybe hunting illegally
or up to kid stuff. At any rate, she didn’t want to meet that guy again. Based on the broadness of the chest that smacked into her, it was a guy and one with muscles and strength. She could have died from hitting her head on the rock. Tempting fate further was not in the cards. She pushed to her feet and steadied herself. The moon was bright in the sky, moving toward the horizon. Midnight had come and gone. So much for star gazing. But she was more concerned with getting back to her vehicle than an ancient prophesy or even the expensive telescope she’d borrowed.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said to Trouble. The cat’s tail twitched, and he started down the trail. “Yeah, you’re a regular Dan’l Boone, leading us through enemy territory.” She often talked to the cat about characters, fictional and otherwise. Trouble was a well-read feline. She knew because she’d been the one who read to him.
She’d parked her car at the base of the lookout point on a flat piece of ground at the dead end of what country folk called a pig track. More likely it was a path cleared for ATVs. She didn’t know who owned that particular piece of property—though she suspected it was part of the huge tract Tom Wells owned--and she didn’t want to find out. She only wanted to go home.
A dull headache throbbed on the side of her head. If it didn’t let up, tomorrow she’d run by the doctor’s office and get it checked. And as soon as she got home she saw aspirin in her future. She’d take a warm bath and bring circulation back to her toes and feet, and she’d slip into her coziest pajamas, the ones with dogs and cats in Christmas hats. Then it was into the bed until morning. Benjy could handle opening the bookstore. This was the luxury of paying an employee.
She had it all planned out—until she came to her car. She couldn’t believe what she saw. The vehicle had all-around flat tires. Someone had deliberately punctured her tires and left her stranded in the middle of the woods, trespassing on someone else’s property.
Her cell phone had two bars, and she had no choice. She placed the call to Barney’s Wrecker Service. “Four flats,” she told Barney Sellers. When she hung up, she called the sheriff’s office. Rob Sieck answered himself, and Tammy wondered what was going on that would have the sheriff at work at dawn. It had to be something big.
“Four flats? Where’d you find a bed of nails to drive over?” Rob asked her. They’d gone to high school together and had always maintained a friendship.
“I didn’t drive over anything. My vehicle was parked. Barney is on his way, but I thought I should call you. It’s vandalism for sure.” She decided against telling him about the attack in the woods. She’d been trespassing, and if a herd of deputies went up Rook’s Vantage for evidence, Tom Wells would surely discover it and he’d be hot under the collar. Best to report the car so she could file on her insurance and let it go.
“Take some photos, Tammy. Be sure and photograph around the car area. I don’t have a deputy I can send right now.”
“What’s going on?”
“You remember Debby Caldwell? Works at Elmore County Bank.”
“Sure.” She was a pretty young woman who was always pleasant.
“She went missing after work. Left the bank at five and told her coworkers she was stopping to pick up some pork chops for supper but didn’t show up at home. Her husband is frantic and I’m worried myself.”
“I hope you find her soon. I’ll handle the photographs and such for the insurance report. Don’t worry about this flat thing. Here’s Barney now.”
“Don’t think you’re getting by without telling me why you’re on Tom Well’s private property. I’ll be by the bookstore later to hear the whole story.”
“I expect nothing less.” Tammy shut the phone off as Barney jumped out of the wrecker.
“Whooeee, Tammy. Who’s pissed off at you?”
“That’s a good question.”
“Stolen any boyfriends or husbands lately?” Barney’s grin went from ear to ear.
“You know me better than that.”
“Fact is, I do. But this was deliberate. Of course, you are trespassing, too. And I suspect you know this land belongs to Tom Wells. He don’t cotton to trespassers.” The humor was gone and Barney’s gaze was knowing. “What are you doing up here by yourself?”
“Stargazing.” She laughed at his dubious expression. “It’s true. I was having an astrological moment. Fix my tires. I don’t need a lecture about how foolish I am.” She patted his shoulder as he set to work. She looked around for Trouble. The lean cat was nowhere to be found. He’d been at her side only moments before.
“There’s no fixing four flats. You’re gonna be towed in. You want to jump in the cab of the wrecker to stay warm, that’s fine, but it’s going to take some time with those flats,” Barney called out as he began the process of hooking her little Prius to pull onto the bed of the tow truck.
A faint meow came from the trail that led up to the top of Rook’s Vantage. “Trouble, come back down here.”
Instead of obeying her, the cat bounded up the trail, the tip of his black tail disappearing in the underbrush. Luckily the sun had crested over the horizon and she could clearly follow the cat’s lead.
“That darn cat,” Tammy said. “He knows exactly what I’m saying and he does exactly what he wants.”
“You’ve owned cats your whole life and yet you expect them to behave like dogs.” Barney laughed. “You’d better catch him before he gets too far ahead of you. Hey, maybe I should go with you. Make sure those vandals aren’t around.”
“Whoever did this is long gone, Barney. Just get the car hitched and I’ll catch Trouble. I did leave my telescope up on top of the ridge. Do you have time for me to retrieve it—and Trouble.”
“Sure. If you aren’t back by the time I’m done, I’ll walk up the trail to help you carry stuff down.”
“Thanks, Barney.” This was one reason she’d never, ever leave Wetumpka, Alabama. Folks cared about each other. They had time to help each other. Those things were far more valuable than the big city life that so many of her friends had chosen after college.
She started up the steep incline, glad to be moving. Her muscles were sore but the headache she’d awakened with had dissipated. The cat remained thirty yards ahead of her. For some reason he was determined that she retrieve the telescope. And that was smart. There was a 99 percent chance no one would bother the equipment if she left it until tonight—her last chance to look for the “new” planet. But the 1 percent chance wasn’t worth it. Best to haul it down the ridge and then back up later.
She came to a fork in the path. To the left was the telescope. To the right was Trouble, and he was circling and crying. With some reluctance she moved down the path to the right. This was the location where she’d been attacked.
Normally she would have chalked it up to some kids camping out and trespassing, and the fear of being caught and arrested for such. And that was an 85 percent possibility. But she also knew that Tom Wells, infamous recluse and survivalist, who had once bought the local grocery out of toilet tissue and soap because the economy was going to collapse, had allowed another man to move onto his property. A mysterious renter whose brusque behavior had given rise to speculation among the town residents. She didn’t know his name, but his reputation for being a rude loner was all over town.
Her thoughts returned to her midnight encounter. The size and heft of the person who’d smacked into her spoke of an adult male. But the fact that whoever it was had run off without checking to see if she was injured indicated a teenager, someone thoughtless. Unless it was a person like Tom Well’s new tenant who was rude and pushy. Tammy went with the laws of probability and decided the incident was due to a teenager who didn’t think and simply didn’t want to be caught on private property. They could have been drinking or smoking dope, lending more fear to the penalties that would incur if they were arrested. The flat tires were probably unrelated.
She followed along behind Trouble until she came to the rock where she’d hit her head. The tiny smear of blood had
dried. She found some footprints from large boots and took a photo, just to be on the safe side.
Trouble, though, was moving farther away. “Hey, let’s get the telescope. Barney is waiting for us. He’ll have the car hooked up by now.”
“Me-ow.” The cat spun in circles, and when she didn’t move fast enough he came and hooked his front claws in her jeans with just enough pressure to stick her skin.
“Hey! That’s illegal.” But she followed him. He was an uncanny cat. He’d helped her find things in her shop that she’d hunted for weeks. He assessed her customers and whenever someone, on those rare occasions, wanted to give her trouble, he jumped on the counter and growled in a menacing way. The complainer generally toned it down or left the store.
Trouble was also the son of Familiar, the black cat detective, who belonged to her best friend forever, Eleanor Curry. Familiar was so well known for his sleuthing abilities that he’d been hired to solve cases around the world. Tammy was certain Trouble had inherited his father’s talent. And he was just getting to an age where he was independent and able to show off what he could do.
So she followed him, wondering what in the world he was up to.
“Make it fast,” she said. “I won’t leave Barney standing around much longer.”
The cat sprinted down the trail and she had to hustle to keep him in sight. When he came to a high perch, he stopped. “Me-ow!” he demanded. He walked to the edge of the steep ravine, breccia tumbling beneath his slight weight.
“Get back from the edge.” Tammy rushed forward. The cat was a daredevil, no doubt, but even the well-balanced feline could fall if the footing crumbled. “Trouble, come here.”
The cat remained on the precarious ledge.
Tammy wasn’t really afraid of heights, but the loose shale and rock did make her worried. When she was very close to the cat, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled forward. “When I get my hands on you, I’m going to put you in the bookstore and not ever let you out again.”
Thrice Familiar (Fear Familiar Book 3) Page 26
