For a moment, Devon wondered what was wrong with her. She’d never entertained such erotic thoughts before, and why would she? Considering she’d never been with a man before, it wasn’t as if she was craving something she was missing. It had to be Ivy’s fault for sharing so many details about her wild encounters.
When she snapped out of her trance, she realized she was still in Brant’s arms, and they were staring into each other’s eyes for a long time without speaking. Something seemed to snap within him. Brant placed his hand on her face and kissed her warmly but aggressively as if he too had been reliving yesterday’s seduction scene. Devon was taken by surprise by the heart-stopping kiss and tensed. She was about to return the kiss when a drunken couple was heard laughing from somewhere nearby and startled them. Brant pulled away, appeared embarrassed, and then attempted a smile.
“I, uh,” he fumbled nervously. “We’d better go. It’s late, and we both have work in the morning.”
Devon felt her heart sink, but she managed a smile and nodded mechanically in agreement. With that passionate kiss now burned into her mind, she’d never stop the wild, sexual fantasies.
Chapter Thirty-four
Wednesday morning arrived without warning and with equally little sleep. Despite that Devon was still tired from her evening out, she was feeling enthusiastic and almost giddy. Her brief kiss with Brant played out in her mind a thousand times and even in her dreams. It was just one kiss. Perhaps it meant nothing, but she couldn’t get Brant off her mind. Devon hurried into the workshop and smiled cheerfully at Ross as she slipped into her lab coat. She was a little anxious about seeing Brant that morning and the awkwardness last night may have caused, but she was optimistically enthusiastic.
“Good morning, Ross,” she announced cheerfully then looked around for Brant as her heart pounded with anticipation. “Where’s Brant?”
“Tyler sent him on a business trip.”
Devon’s heart suddenly sank, and she felt almost numb. She sat on a stool before the counter and didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lead on to Ross that she was devastated. A business trip out of the blue? Was it a coincidence?
“I thought Tyler handled all the business related stuff?” she finally asked while attempting not to sound disappointed.
“Tyler decided he needed to stay behind and do some wax creations of his own,” Ross remarked with noted sarcasm.
“Oh?”
“He’ll be working in the evening the next few nights,” Ross informed her. “On the bright side; you’ll be working mornings with me until Brant returns.”
“How long will Brant be gone?” she asked not the least bit interested in Ross’ bright side to the story.
“Three days,” Ross announced while groaning. “I’m on a countdown.”
Devon sighed with defeat. She wondered if Brant’s sudden business trip was so he could avoid her and what he might perceive to be an awkward moment between boss and employee. She no longer knew what she was feeling or what to think. She just knew she needed to take the next three days to wipe any sexual fantasies involving her boss from her mind.
“Tyler will also be checking in from time to time,” Ross informed her. “I think he’s afraid we’ll be screwing around.”
She eyed him sharply. “In your case, he’d be right,” Devon teased.
“Helps pass the time and makes for a fun work environment,” he announced defensively. “I don’t know how people can be so serious all the time. It’s not natural.”
“It’s called being an adult,” she informed him then laughed. “But I don’t have to worry about that because you’ll never allow that to happen to me.”
§
Ross pulled the black, horse-drawn hearse carriage while clutching a buggy shaft in each hand. He had the bridle around his neck with the plume proudly displayed on top of his head. Devon sat in the driver’s seat with the reins in one hand and the buggy whip in the other. She playfully tapped Ross with the whip as he pulled the hearse carriage into the witch display. Once it was in place, he fell to the ground while panting. Devon jumped off the hearse carriage and approached him on the ground. He looked up at her.
“You know, you could have pushed,” he informed her with some irritation.
She grinned at him. “Where would the fun in that be?” she teased.
Ross pulled himself to his hands and knees and stood with some exhaustion. Devon approached the back of the hearse and removed several severed heads on stakes. Each head depicted haggard looking women with looks of horror on their faces. She then removed a wax woman wearing an old black dress from the back. Ross stared as she removed the wax woman and several other set displays packed in the hearse.
“No wonder that thing was so damned heavy,” Ross protested. “You loaded it up first!”
She gave him an innocent look. “Why make more than one trip?”
“Why?” he demanded. “Because I was the one pulling that thing loaded with props as well as you, your highness.” His brows raised. “News flash, Devon dear, you aren’t as light as you look.”
She raised a skeptical brow, insulted by the comment. “Maybe you’re not as strong as you think you are,” Devon announced.
He frowned while glaring at her. “You know I love you,” Ross remarked. “But some days I like you less than others.”
It took nearly an hour, but Ross and Devon finally finished the display depicting one witch being burned at the stake, which included fake, automated flames, while surrounded by angry men and woman. Along the front of the nighttime set were the severed heads of suspected witches on stakes sticking out of the ground. In the background, two female witches attacked unsuspecting men. Ross and Devon stood back and admired the scene. Without looking at each other, they exchanged a high-five.
Chapter Thirty-five
Kids played in the park on the sunny Thursday afternoon. The park was located in the center of town with a gazebo not far from the courthouse end. It was a central location to have rallies and assemblies since there was plenty of space for residents to set up folding chairs. There was a small area containing kiddy swings, a jungle gym, sandbox, and various other kiddy rides. A concrete walkway crisscrossed through most of the park and circled the elegant fountain. Ross and Devon approached the fountain, sat on the edge, and watched the children playing nearby.
“Thank God Brant’s back on Saturday,” Ross announced already looking exhausted. “Did you get a look at that new wax woman Tyler made?”
“I suppose he’s trying,” she remarked with a sigh. “A little too much makeup.”
“A little?” he announced with surprise while staring at her. “I don’t know if she’s supposed to be a prostitute or a cartoon character.”
“Nothing a little turpentine can’t cure.”
He shook his head as his eyes widened at the comment. “I’m not touching Tyler’s work,” Ross announced. “He’ll have my head on a stick and mounted in the witch display. Let Brant deal with offending him.”
Ivy hurried across the park and joined them by the fountain. It was only a short sprint from the bank. She was out of breath but smiling.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“We’re used to it,” Ross teased then looked around with concern. “So where’s Tony? Can’t have lunch without the food.”
They saw Tony approaching from the opposite end of the park carrying a plastic bag. Ross jumped to his feet and hurried to greet Tony, although it wasn’t exactly Tony he was happy to see. Devon and Ivy moved to a nearby bench as the guys approached. Ross routed through the bag and handed out their salads.
“I think you should pick up the food tomorrow, Ross,” Tony insisted while watching his friend tear through the wrapping on his sandwich.
Ross muttered something inaudible while devouring his hoagie.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tony announced then looked at Devon and Ivy and offered a pleasant smile. “Did I miss anything good?”
“I just got here
myself,” Ivy replied.
“Ross and I were just counting down days until Brant returns,” Devon remarked.
“Tyler’s that bad, huh?” Tony asked.
“He’s just not much of an artist. His work needs some help,” she replied then drew a deep breath and groaned, rethinking her last comment. “His new wax woman looks like a streetwalker.”
Tony laughed at the comment. They saw Dorothy pushing Chelsea in her wheelchair not far from them. All four briefly stared.
Ross immediately returned to his lunch although with less enthusiasm. “Someone should keep Dorothy away from makeup as well.”
Devon, Ivy, and Tony all stared a moment longer. Chelsea wore bright colored lipstick, dark eyeshadow, and an excessive amount of blush. She was dressed in a brightly colored, flowered shirt with large, fake pearls around her neck. Dorothy pushed her daughter toward them and paused.
“Nice day for a picnic lunch,” Dorothy announced while smiling pleasantly despite all she’d been through in recent days.
All four nodded.
She then turned her attention to Tony. “The funeral was lovely,” Dorothy announced then fidgeted. “I’m sure Jamie would appreciate what you’d done. She looked, uh, peaceful.”
“Thank you.”
Devon found herself staring at Chelsea, who was only a few feet from her. The makeup and bows in her hair were hideous. Chelsea looked more like a clown than a young woman. She had once been the most beautiful girl in town. Her long blonde hair was now cropped to shoulder length, which was probably more manageable for her poor mother, but there was no reason to treat the young woman like some porcelain doll. Since Chelsea had been two grades ahead of Devon in school, she didn’t know her all that well. However, she did remember she was as smart as she was beautiful.
As Devon stared at the girl who could do little more than stare hypnotically at nothing in particular, Devon wondered if there was anything left of Chelsea inside her non-functioning shell of a body. Devon finally looked away and no longer felt like eating. Dorothy bid them an enjoyable lunch then pushed Chelsea along the walkway across the park.
Devon watched them leave and shook her head, feeling almost enraged. “Why does she insist on doing that?” she scoffed under her breath, surprising her friends.
“Doing what?” Tony asked.
“Dress her like a rag doll with all that makeup,” Devon muttered and set her salad aside. “It’s so disrespectful to that poor girl.”
“Hard to believe she was once the most beautiful girl in town,” Ross remarked and seemed to have less enthusiasm for his sandwich.
“Chelsea?” Tony asked with surprise.
“Oh, yeah. Before her accident, she was a raving beauty,” Ross announced and sank into thought with fondness. “I remember every boy in school chased after her.” He then eyed his friends and turned slightly serious. “Of course, I was a grade below her. I knew I never stood a shot, but in our few encounters, she was always nice to me.”
“I remember hearing about Dorothy’s rage over her wanting to date,” Ivy added and shook her head. “Dorothy and Chelsea got into some terrible fights. If there ever was a man-hater, it’s Dorothy.”
“For such a god-fearing woman,” Devon muttered.
“Chelsea and Jamie got into it a good number of times too,” Ross interjected. “Jamie was working her way to becoming a slut even back then.”
“Devon and I were in the same grade as Jamie. She was always stealing someone’s boyfriend,” Ivy scoffed with annoyance. “That’s why Tamara hated her so much. I heard she slept with almost all of Tamara’s boyfriends after we graduated high school.”
“I seemed to have missed a lot not growing up here,” Tony remarked while eying his friends. “Not to change the subject, but what actually happened to Chelsea?”
“She’d fallen off the bridge near the resorts back when it was all woodland,” Devon informed him. “A lot of kids hung out around there after school.”
“It was a big time date spot back then,” Ross reported then cast a look at Devon. “But she didn’t fall; she was pushed.”
“Not the stranger theory again,” Ivy groaned then shook her head. She turned on the bench to face Ross where he sat on the grass near them. “It was never proven she was pushed from the bridge by the man who murdered Christine.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t suicide like some claimed,” Ross boldly announced. “Chelsea was an attractive young lady. She had everything to live for. She did not try to kill herself.”
“Doesn’t always mean anything,” Ivy boldly interrupted. “Being pretty and popular doesn’t mean she wasn’t depressed. If she had wanted to date and her overly religious, manhating mother was against it that could cause some serious issues.”
“They found someone else’s blood on her shirt. Although it was never publicly reported, I think Sheriff Carter has forensic proof that it was Christine’s blood,” Ross announced with annoyance, prepared to fight the issue to the death. “She also had scrapes on her arms and legs from sticker bushes.”
“Yeah, she fell from a bridge,” Ivy insisted, defending her theory. “Of course she had scrapes. There were rocks everywhere.”
“They were sticker bush scrapes on her arms and legs,” Ross insisted defensively. “You don’t get sticker bush scrapes from rocks. There were, however, sticker bushes in the woods where they found Christine’s body. Ergo, she witnessed the murder, and the killer chased her to keep her quiet. When he had the opportunity, he pushed her off the bridge.”
“Ipso facto. I’ve gotten sticker bush scratches without being chased by a killer,” Ivy announced.
Devon groaned and rubbed her temple, having heard her friends argue their cases many times before. Tony eyed Devon with surprise. She made a face and shook her head, having no way of ending their debate.
Tony finally looked at Ivy and Ross. “Okay, kids, fight nice,” he scolded. “Going all Latin cliché isn’t going to solve anything.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Thursday night at the tavern was meant to be ladies’ night, although most women avoided the bar. On the night when mixed drinks were half priced for women, which was meant to drive in more female customers, male patrons arrived in flocks to socialize with the women. The stench of desperation from the swarm of men essentially chased most of the women away. Now, Thursdays were just sad and depressing, leaving only the hardcore drinkers. Joe sat at the bar in his usual spot while Stan hovered over him with little better to do.
“I can’t believe Paula’s gone,” Stan remarked while sadly shaking his head then appeared curious. “Did they find the guy who did it?”
Joe straightened and avoided looking at his bartender friend. “No, not yet,” he remarked. “Sheriff Carter couldn’t find his ass if it was on fire.” He then eyed Stan. “I’ll find the guy though. I intend to find him and make him pay.”
“Well, if you need a hand with that, let me know,” Stan announced and straightened. “Your sister was my friend too.”
“I may just take you up on that,” Joe remarked and offered a strange smirk.
Stan sighed and looked around while frowning. “Place just isn’t the same without Paula. Our only lady on ladies’ night.”
Joe glanced at the clock on the wall. It was quarter to midnight. He didn’t even finish his beer when he stood and placed some money on the counter. Stan gave him a strange look.
“What? You’re leaving already?” Stan asked with surprise.
“I have business to attend to,” Joe informed him, showing little emotion.
“Business? At midnight?” Stan asked while appearing curious. “What sort of business would you have at midnight?”
Joe grinned and raised his brows. “The slightly shady sort of business” he announced.
“The kind I best not know about, huh?” Stan remarked with a curious look.
“Yeah, that kind,” Joe remarked. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stan.”
Stan grinned a
nd chuckled. “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” he announced. “Good luck. Let me know if you need to borrow my car and a shovel.”
Joe chuckled then left the tavern. He glanced at his watch and then hurried onto the back road in the direction of his house. It was possibly the first time he was making the return journey sober, allowing him to walk a little faster. He turned down his private drive and made the long trek toward his house at the end of the dirt driveway. A car’s headlights seemed to appear mysteriously behind him. As he turned, dismayed by the closeness and sudden appearance of the headlights, the red sports car’s engine revved and the bright headlights gained on him at an amazing rate. Joe’s eyes widened in horror as he attempted to leap out of the car’s path.
The car clipped him, sending him flying across the dirt driveway. Joe rolled several times then lay motionless on the road. The car skidded to a stop, was thrown into reverse, and raced backward. The tires squealed as the car came to a stop alongside him. Joe groaned but was barely conscious. The phantom grabbed him under the arms and heaved him into the trunk of the car. Joe slowly came to, saw the phantom, and immediately lunged for him. The phantom punched him in the face and slammed the trunk shut.
§
Joe woke within the trunk of the sports car and could see the sun rising through a rusted hole near the taillight. He lay on his back and kicked the trunk with both feet, attempting to jar it open. A strange grinding sound startled him. An electric saw blade penetrated the trunk. Joe jumped with surprise.
“Hey, let me out of here,” he cried out. “What the hell are you doing?”
The electric saw stopped after making a triangle cut through the metal. Joe kept his distance while attempting to look out through the small opening. Liquid poured in through the opening. The stench of gasoline was unmistakable as it soaked him before he rolled away from the liquid.
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