by Ami Diane
“Wait,” Ella said, “how many have you confiscated from her? Know what? I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I’ll sleep better not knowing.”
“But what if I see a bear?”
“I think he’d know to run the other way,” Chapman said. “They’re smart creatures.”
Wink returned and told Horatio and Ella to take the rest of the day off. She’d close up the diner.
Flo managed to convince Chapman to walk her, an “old incapacitated lady” home.
Wink grabbed Ella’s elbow and guided her to the inn behind Chapman and Flo.
Unsure of how many steps ahead the sheriff and Crazy Flo were, Ella whispered, “What did Chapman want to talk to you about?”
“Just wanted to chat.”
“He doesn’t think that you had something to do with Stan’s death, does he?”
It was a long moment before Wink responded. “Maybe.”
Once her boss had deposited her in her room, she went to check on Flo. A second later, a knock came at the door, and the sheriff asked if he could open it for a word.
It creaked, and she heard a single footstep of his cowboy boot on the hardwood floor. “Miss Barton, I’m sorry to tell you this, and I forgot with everything happening just now and Stan’s death, but I had to release Six today.”
All the air left her lungs, and she felt like she’d been blasted in the face again with pepper spray. She felt her way to her mattress and slumped on the bed. The part of her that always searched for silver lining in every situation, the part of her that deflected with humor, vanished.
“I’m beginning to think you want him to kill me.”
His feet shuffled. “That’s not so.”
“Really?” She tried to hold back the hateful words, but part of her fear was bubbling up and venting as rage. “I’m trying, Sheriff. I’m really trying here. I’m doing my best to deal with this new life, but some days, I’m barely hanging on by a thread. And you make I too much harder. You’ve made it clear you don’t like me. If Six killed me, that’d kill two birds with one stone. I’d be gone, and you could finally charge him with a serious enough crime.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth.” His voice came out softer than she’d ever heard. “I’m sorry, Ella. I really am. But my hands are tied. Where can I put him? I can’t keep him in that holding cell forever.”
“Don’t you have some kind of tribunal?”
“There’s been talk.”
“Maybe it should be more than talk.”
It was a long while before he responded. “You’re not wrong. If he comes near you again, threatens you in any way, come to me, and I’ll take care of him. For good. No more catch and release.” Without another word, he left, the sound of his boots on the steps covered the beating of her heart.
Wink’s voice carried down the hallway.
“No, I will not read to you.”
She came back into Ella’s room and laid a cold rag over her eyes. After Ella assured her she was fine, Wink closed the door again, leaving Ella to her tears, snot, and thoughts.
CHAPTER 7
THE woman staring back at Ella in the mirror looked like a prizefighter. Her eyes were rimmed pink, but at least she could open them now. Her nose was as red as Rudolph’s and dripped like she had a cold.
Despite all this, she decided to go for a run. A nap and several facial washes later hadn’t cleared the worries that had been running rampant.
She slipped on her yoga pants and a tank top. Before heading out, she opened the memo app on her smartphone and created a new document titled, Stan. Obviously, people were upset about him trying to install several turbines on Twin Hills, but was that really something worth killing over?
She remembered when he’d asked for her signature, his demeanor changed the moment she refused. the day he’d been collecting signatures.
Maybe he’d behaved similarly and become hostile with the wrong person. She shook her head, deciding he was far more likely killed by someone less than thrilled with the prospect of losing their property.
Wink’s face popped into her head, and she dismissed it just as quickly. Wink didn’t have a violent bone in her body. When Kay had been killed, Ella had made mistakenly suspected the Murrays.
This time, she decided, she was going to trust those closest to her.
After slipping her phone into her armband, Ella shoved her earbuds in and headed out the back of the inn towards the lake. The humid air drenched her skin as her feet pounded over the trail.
It took longer than she would’ve liked for her to fall into a rhythm and for her second wind to hit. She blamed the muggy rainforest.
Her breath became labored, still burning from the stupid bear spray, as she passed the park. The old maple and oak trees were catching up to the sudden shifts in weather their leaves turning various shades of flames, despite the heat. It was like fall in reverse.
She noticed several spots along the soft dirt in the park near the shoreline had been dug into. Her first thought was that Chester’s cousins were busy burying their acorns.
As she passed the evergreen forest towering above, it was hard not to think of her more recent adventure with Wink, but even more so, her unfortunate encounter with Six a couple weeks back.
Somewhere in the shadows and ferns was where she’d discovered his illegal still. Where he’d nearly shot her.
Ella dug her heels into the dirt, ignoring the burn in her thighs and the way the air stung her eyes.
She had to ease to a power walk a couple of times, but by the time she rounded Lake Drive on the north side of town, a lot of her thoughts had retreated to their corners.
Her focus was entirely on the steady flow of oxygen through her lungs, how fresh and very un-pepper-like. It was quickly becoming her personal mission to locate Flo’s cache of weapons and confiscate every last one—for the safety of the entire town.
Ella jogged over the grassy bank, up the backside of the sheriff’s office, the library, Sal’s—whose hedge now had a hole roughly the size and shape of a hang glider—and other nondescript buildings.
She cut down an alley and hit Main Street, wanting to stop by Stewart’s market for fresh bananas.
Ahead, a lean figure with a Stetson hat, spurs, and hoodie ambled up the sidewalk. She ducked back into the alley, her heart hammering in her chest from more than just the run.
Six.
Sweat poured down Ella’s face. Her chest heaved as she clutched the stitch in her side. He was heading in her direction, and if she didn’t move soon, he’d spot her cowering in the shadows.
Ella forced her rubbery legs to move, and she sprinted back towards the lake. She cut across the grass again. Several yards ahead, she could make out the terrace for the inn.
She was jogging around the gated patio of the local bar when the entire sky sizzled and crackled with purple and pink electricity. The hair on Ella’s arm stood on end.
Her shoes slid to a stop, her eyes glued above. For as long as she was stuck in Keystone, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the sight preceding a time jump.
Overhead, more colors were added, blues and teals. They stretched and reached the horizon, obscuring the rainforest.
There were few times in Ella’s life when she witnessed something so awe-inspiring that words failed her. The aurora borealis. A total solar eclipse. And now, the crackling electric dome over Keystone Village.
The light built until the lines coalesced into a dazzling white, brighter than the sun. She squeezed her eyes as the flash burnt through her lids with a blinding light. The after-image of the dome danced in her vision.
When the light faded, she peeled them open. The entire jump, from the first crackle of color to the nuclear blast of light, had only lasted ten seconds at most.
Once she could see properly again, she turned to what they referred to as south, past the wind farm, to see pine-covered mountains and steep peaks of snow. It looked as if the town had been plunked into the m
iddle of a mountain range.
Ella admired their new scenery which promised to be much cooler. Then, she remembered why she’d been running across the grass in the first place. The threat of Six had been momentarily pushed from her thoughts.
A minute later, she was bounding across the terrace for the inn. She slammed the back door shut behind her and turned the deadbolt with a click. Now, she had an entirely different reason to locate Flo’s stash of weapons.
CHAPTER 8
ELLA grabbed her morning coffee and walked through a set of French doors to her favorite room in the manor: the library.
Picking up a book on the French War, she opened another door opposite the French ones and stepped into her second favorite room. Glass made up two of the four walls of the conservatory. They stuck out enough from the footprint of the mansion to require a partial roof of glass at the far end. Hundreds of plants flourished under the natural light pouring in.
Steam rose in lazy swirls from her mug as she settled in at the café table by a star jasmine that looked like it was fixing to take over the whole inn.
Ella glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to drink her coffee before she needed to change for work.
“Morning, Ella.” Jimmy stepped out from behind a tomato plant.
Ella startled, some of her precious brew splashing onto the table. “
“Crap on a cracker. Why didn’t you let me know you were there?”
His brows dipped. “I just did. Tomato?” He held out a container full of cherry tomatoes as red as Christmas or a face full of pepper spray.
“I’m good. You’re gardening a bit early. Where’s Rosa?”
“She’s coming in later. We have a lot to pick and more to plant. The whole town does. Mrs. Faraday’s having a heck of a time propagating more corn, so everyone’s pitching in, planting corn crops in their own greenhouses—those who have them, anyway. Gladys, Mrs. Faraday that is, said something about not enough genetic diversity. So, I’m going to see what I can do with what I have here. Maybe she could use my seeds.”
Like most Keystone residents, they kept an indoor greenhouse to supplement what they got from the dozens of large greenhouses north of town.
He stretched to his full height, arching a kink out of his lower back. Ella set her book aside, cradling her coffee, as she walked over to the raised bed he was working in. It was under the canopy of glass and caught most of the sun.
“Hey, look. There’s corn. I had no idea there was corn in here.” She looked down at the diminutive stalks, wondering how she’d missed them in the past week of her morning coffee routine.
“Yeah. There’re not much now, but I can usually get several ears out of this little patch.” He brushed dirt off his hands then studied her. “I heard Six got released.”
The now familiar knot in the pit of her stomach returned like an unwanted houseguest. Her eyes dropped to her coffee, noting a small chip in the rim of the mug.
“Ella, if he comes near you, threatens you in any way, come get me. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing, come find me.”
She blinked and looked up at him. “Thank you, Jimmy. That means a lot.” After she’d taken a slow sip, she said, “I saw him yesterday. I don’t think he saw me. He was walking down Main Street; it was just before the flash.”
“You alright?”
She nodded. “On an unrelated note, you wouldn’t happen to know where Flo keeps all her weapons, do you?”
He grinned and looked back at his baby corn. “You think I’d keep something like that a secret? I’d tell every living soul I came across, especially the sheriff.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment. “Do we know where we’ve jumped yet?”
“No.” He bent back over the bed and began pulling weeds. “Probably won’t know.”
“But what if it’s someone’s home? I mean, what if we’re near a time and place for someone trapped here? That would suck to be so close to returning home and never know it.” She couldn’t help but think of herself. What if she was back in her year, or one adjacent, but merely in a remote location.
He sighed, pushing the soil. “Sometimes, we have volunteers who venture over the border to figure out that very thing. But when too many got stranded, not making it back in time before the next jump, the volunteers became more scarce.”
Ella set her mug down, replacing it with a pair of gardening gloves. The dirt lay bare and turned. Using a cup, she helped him spread fertilizer from a nearby bag. “How does one volunteer?”
“Fills out a form at the sheriff’s office.” His movements stopped abruptly. “Don’t do it, Ella. It’s too dangerous.”
“I was just curious.” But she was more than that. The thought had been gnawing at her since she’d found out she was stranded in the village. “How do the volunteers get left behind, anyway? I mean, can’t they make a trek in a day and be back the next?”
He was quiet a long moment. He picked up a handheld trowel and marred the dirt. Fresh soil oozed out. “Sometimes it takes that long to find a town or a local to pull information from. Sometimes, it’s because the town jumped sooner than expected. I’ve seen two happen in a day, and two weeks in between.”
She digested this new bit of information. “Has anyone kept a log? You know, to look for patterns?”
“Will or the professor probably did a while back. If there was a pattern, they would’ve found it.”
Ella fell silent, running through different theories. She itched to run upstairs to her phone and add this new information to her investigation about the mystery of the traveling town.
She helped Jimmy for another ten minutes before racing upstairs to change. She paused long enough to add to the Keystone note on her phone then ran down the stairs, skipping the last step.
She reached for the door for Grandma’s Kitchen just as Wink flipped the sign over.
“‘Morning, dear. Fresh blueberry pancakes in the kitchen.”
Ella smiled, grateful she no longer had to ask for food. Wink had probably seen what Ella ate when meals weren’t being offered to her. Between her and Rose, Ella rarely had to search out meals.
When she walked into the kitchen with Wink, Horatio practically pounced on them. “Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” Ella slipped on her apron.
“Stan’s death wasn’t an accident.”
Her hands froze on the strings. “W-where did you hear that?” She shot Wink a concerned look.
“From Jenny, who heard it from Pauline when she went to get her hair done.”
“And how did you hear it from Jenny?” Wink raised a penciled eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you two gabbed with each other. Did she tell you that when you went to get a manicure?”
He threw a very brown, very hard-looking fry at her. Without moving, Wink watched it soar past her head by five feet.
“Wow,” Ella said, “you ever think about playing baseball?” Wink’s eyes danced. One of their newfound favorite pastimes had become ganging up on the cook.
“I don’t gab. And I don’t go to a salon.” He crossed his arms, glancing down at his biceps and pushing them out.
Ella couldn’t let the idea of him in Jenny’s salon go. “Did she tell you when you went in for your bikini wax?” She snickered at her own joke. Both of their heads turned, blank expressions on their faces. “Right. A bikini wax is… how can I put this—”
The front entrance jingled.
“Ah, saved by the bell.” Ella’s face lit up as she held up a finger. “Also the name of a great show, by the way.”
The morning rushed passed at the frenetic pace she’d grown accustomed to in the hours just after opening. During the lull before lunch, their only customer shuffled over to the register.
Ella looked at his check, trying to decipher her own handwriting.
“That’ll be $5.25… Mr. Jones, was it?”
Mr. Jones, if that was, in fact, his name hadn’t heard her throu
gh the tufts of ear hair sprouting out the sides of his head.
She wrote down the total and pointed at it then waited patiently while he fished inside his trench coat for his wallet. His face was a map of laughter and years, with constellations of sunspots across his cheeks.
His hand trembled slightly as he produced a brown chicken egg. Followed by another. And another until it looked like an entire henhouse had roosted on the counter. When he finished, he looked considerably thinner and less lumpy than when he’d first come in.
Ella withheld a sigh. In a town that depended more on the trade of goods than currency, she was used to the odd payment here and there. Fish. Flour. Even bottles of whiskey that had mysteriously disappeared.
“Excuse me. I need to see if Grandma Wink will accept these. We just got two dozen yesterday from a family.”
“Huh?”
Instead of repeating herself, she poked her head through the passthrough. “Wink, someone’s trying to settle their bill with eggs.”
“Oh, that’s probably Harvey.” She looked up from rolling out dough for cinnamon rolls, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. “His chickens lay the best eggs. Count how many. He’ll try to skimp out on you. It’s forty cents an egg or a dozen. Whichever comes first.”
Ella blinked at her. “Uh, do you care that they came from his trench coat?”
Wink’s blue head shook from side to side.
Ella returned to the register and counted the eggs.
“Harvey, you’re two eggs shy.”
“More? I just gave you a dozen.”
She counted again, aloud this time. He grumbled searching his pockets. He produced two more and mumbled something about Wink taking him to the cleaners as he shuffled out the door.
Ella glanced from the eggs to him, watching him through the window. She was just about to search for a carton to put them in when she noticed he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gaping at something out of her line of sight. Another couple walking past stopped and stared in the same direction.
