by Catie Rhodes
"Does he look familiar?" Linus did smile now, likely enjoying the mystery.
"He does, but I just can't place him." Shawn Grimes as an adult reminded me of someone else, all right, someone I didn’t know well. It was in the brows and the lips. The identity of this other person hovered at the edge of my consciousness but I couldn’t quite lure it out.
"Like I said in my letter to Freddy Stephens, Shawn told me a really wild story about what happened that day. Would you like to hear it?" Bramwell settled back in his chair, still watching me.
Chest tight, I nodded. This whole thing had my head spinning.
"Shawn said the deputies just showed up and started shooting people. There was no attempt at arrest. Loretta Nell hid Shawn in the attic, told him to stay there until the real cops came." Bramwell snorted at that. "Shawn said the shooting stopped, and the men went into the barn. He heard his mother screaming." Bramwell’s throat clicked as he swallowed. "Freddy Stephens carried Loretta Nell’s body out of the barn and off into the woods."
The woods. I tried to remember the layout of the ranch. In what direction had the woods been? Linus's soft, cultured voice cut into my thoughts.
"When Freddy came back from the woods, he went into the house and looked until he found the baby." Linus raised his eyebrows. This was the punchline.
I snapped off the thoughts about the woods. "Baby?"
"According to Shawn, Loretta Nell had given birth very recently." Bramwell gave me a minute for it to sink in.
"Freddy’s child," I muttered. Just saying the words made another piece click into place. "Freddy and his wife adopted the baby. He grew up to be Josie’s father."
Linus pointed one finger at me like a gun to let me know I had the right answer.
This was why Josie wasn’t dead. Though she might have shared DNA with the lawman who’d killed Loretta Nell, she also carried Loretta Nell’s genes. When Josie ate whatever facsimile of flesh Loretta Nell could manifest as a ghost, that bound them even further. Now Loretta Nell intended for Josie, her granddaughter, to carry out her revenge plan. I thought about Josie wandering the halls of the mental hospital. After a decade in this place, I’ve learned the ropes.
The feeling of being a puppet having my strings pulled came back. Mohawk had lured me out here to carry out plans he'd made decades ago. He'd pitted me against people who knew their mission and couldn't wait to carry it out. Mohawk had put me at a disadvantage from the very beginning. Well, he was going to get a Peri Jean Mace surprise right up his ass. I wouldn't just give up and let him win. I began to assess where I stood.
Shawn Grimes had the key to the book, probably the book as well by now. He’d pick up his last remaining family, and he and Josie would go on a murder spree fueled by that book. Mohawk planned not only to feast on the destruction but on my misery after he took me as a slave. I’d played the fool, and now I’d probably never set things right. But I’d eat catshit and onions before I quit.
"Mr. Bramwell, I appreciate all you've helped me understand, but I need to find Shawn. Now. He’s about to…" I tried to call up words but saw only blood and dead bodies in my mind’s eye.
"You see, that's why I'm so disturbed about what you're telling me. Shawn Grimes is dead, has been for a good five years." Bramwell raked his fingers through his thick, white hair, blinking rapidly.
Shock spread in my chest to tingle against my nerve endings. I shook my head, denying Bramwell’s statement.
"It's true," Bramwell said. "Shawn Grimes was murdered. It was a sad situation. He'd been straight for a while, but one morning he went out to start his car. Someone walked up to it and shot him to death."
I wanted to scream denials, but I saw the truth on his face. Here I was, my freedom in its last hours, and I was just as lost as I’d been from the beginning.
"May I see that picture again?" Bramwell held out his hand.
I gave it to him, put my hand in Tanner's, and stared out at the fancy pool and hot tub. It was a nice fantasy. Escape here.
Bramwell held up one finger and hurried out of the room. This time he came back holding an old photo album. "You need to understand something about my relationship with Freddy Stephens. About two weeks after I sent the letter asking for an interview, my ranch in Dripping Springs burned to the ground." Bramwell’s face turned the color of paste. "Killed my wife, my horses, even my dog. I had a speaking engagement in San Antonio that night. Wasn’t even home."
"Freddy Stephens did it?" Fury burned hot just underneath my skin. I was glad Freddy Stephens and I hadn't met. I hated people like him.
Bramwell did a thing where he wiggled his shoulders and almost nodded.
"I'll never really know. Not long afterward, I got a message in my voicemail. This rough voice said, 'Back the fuck off or you're next.' Shawn Grimes swore the voice on the message was Stephens." Bramwell did the odd motion that wasn't quite a shrug or a nod again. "But I told you that so maybe you can better understand what I'm going to tell you next."
"Mr. Bramwell, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'd have hunted Freddy Stephens down like a rabid dog." The hot anger under my skin would have carried me beyond fear.
"I believe you." Linus almost smiled. "Well, here's my story. When I heard what happened to Freddy Stephens, I went to the auction of his house."
He paused as though Tanner or I would act shocked. I couldn't believe he'd done so little.
Bramwell continued. "There was a guy at the auction buying stuff left and right, and he ran up the bids on everything. But I managed to get this one thing."
He flopped the photo album down on the table and flipped through it. The album showed a bunch of pictures from people wearing plaid pants and flare collars. The women wore bell-bottoms and had beehives. I recognized a picture of a much younger Freddy Stephens and another of a man who looked a lot like Aaron Todd.
Bramwell kept flipping pages. "At first I thought I’d paid too much for an album full of pictures of a guy who’d killed my wife and animals. But then I saw this." Bramwell held the album where I could see and picked at the edge. He pulled it back. "He’d hidden his secret pictures in here."
The pictures behind the cover showed a young Freddy Stephens and an alive Loretta Nell Grimes in a variety of poses. All the pictures had been taken in a spot that looked vaguely familiar. Some of them had Loretta Nell holding the book.
Bramwell held my picture of Loretta Nell up to the ones from his photo album. Both were taken in the same location. He flipped a few pages in the photo album and pointed to one of the whole family. It was the same spot. This time I recognized it. This was the spot where I’d first encountered the thugs who’d tried to beat Tanner and me to death in the parking lot of Roderick’s barbecue joint.
"This is where he buried her," I muttered to nobody in particular. Then I turned to Tanner. "After everything we've been through, Loretta Nell—and the book—have been in one of the first places I visited after I came to Devil's Rest."
Anger was my default emotion, and I wanted to be furious about the way I'd been led around in circles. But I was too scared. Mohawk was winning. He was beating the shit out of Tanner and me.
"We need to get back to Devil's Rest and dig up the book before whoever murdered Aaron figures out where it is." Tanner pushed his chair back and stood. He held out one hand to Linus. "Sir, thank you for your hospitality and your help."
Linus shot out of his chair, his gaze focused on me. "If you’re willing to come back and tell me your story…" Bramwell trailed off with a bow of his head.
"I’ll think about it," I told him. In truth, I'd have to talk to Cecil, see if he had any thoughts. Sometimes my great-uncle saw trouble on the horizon better than I did.
Linus walked us out to the truck and shook both our hands again. He asked for my phone number, and I gave it to him, even though he had it on his caller ID.
Tanner and I left Linus Bramwell’s fancy subdivision and drove back to the strip mall.
The acres of conc
rete had filled up with people going and doing. They sped through the parking lot, walked into stores as fast as they could, and generally had a pinched hurry-up air about them. Today, I was like them. I needed to hurry if I wanted a chance at survival.
"Let’s take your truck back to Devil's Rest," I told Tanner. "Mine’s the one more people have seen. If the cops are looking for me…" I shrugged.
Tanner and I spent too many minutes brainstorming a place to leave my truck, one where it wouldn’t get towed or rouse suspicion. We decided on a parking garage a few miles away. Turned out, driving a few miles in Austin took almost an hour. But we emerged from the garage without my truck, holding a ticket to get it back.
We got into Tanner’s old beater and rolled down the windows. The air conditioning only worked sometimes. I got the GPS working on my phone and began talking Tanner out of Austin.
Once the packed-together buildings of Austin ended, we headed south for Devil's Rest. I watched the landscape speed past.
I understood what my great-uncle Cecil loved about this place. This open, empty land made up a hypnotic panorama. The lonesome, crooked highways screamed desolation. The blazing sweep of sky, the sun a merciless burning corona at its center, didn't forgive mistakes easily. The whole place felt like a secret.
My phone's ringing jolted me out of my daze. I answered, "Peri Jean Mace."
"Ms. Mace? This is Linus Bramwell." His voice broke up on the last few words.
"Yes, sir. We're getting out into the wilds, so the signal's not too good. What can I do for you?" I stared out the window at a bloated deer carcass on the roadside.
"I'll make this fast then. Since you left, I haven't quit thinking about who murdered Aaron Todd. With Shawn dead and Josie locked up, who else would care about all this stuff?" He said something else, but the signal scrambled it. I turned to Tanner. "Pull over before I lose him completely."
He did as I asked.
"Linus, I didn't catch that last part." I lit a cigarette and watched buzzards circling the dead deer. Pretty soon, they'd dig in. Bon appetit. Ick.
"I said that I had forgotten all about Shawn's son," Linus said.
I dropped my cigarette in my lap. Tanner slapped at it, but I snatched it up before he could ruin it.
"Shawn had a son?" Even as I asked the question, I remembered Linus telling us about hunting Shawn down at a shack in Austin where he was living with a woman and a boy.
"I never really knew, to be honest. Shawn brought the boy to several of our meetings, and the boy seemed versed in the subject matter." Linus paused several seconds. "I took a picture of Shawn every time he came to talk, and I am positive I had one of Shawn and the boy. Maybe I don't. Getting old sucks. My advice is don't do it."
If I couldn't get the book, I wouldn't be getting old. Neither would Tanner.
"Aha," Linus shouted. "Here it is. I'm going to send it. Hold on." The sounds of Linus moving around came over the phone. "Okay. It's sent. I know you're headed to dig up that blasted book. If I think of anything else useful, I'll call."
We said our goodbyes and hung up. Tanner took off driving again. I held my phone in my lap, watching one bar of service fade in and out. At this rate, Linus's picture would never come through. The picture finally popped into existence, as though by magic. I opened it. At first, the preteen next to Shawn Grimes looked like every other gawky, dorky boy with his sweaty cap of hair and red, freckled cheeks. Then I saw the eyes, and bile rose up the back of my throat.
"It's Dwight Carr," my voice rasped out, barely a whisper.
Aaron Todd's killer, Loretta Nell Grimes's grandson, had rented me a motel room and flirted with me. If Linus had been right and Shawn Grimes had fed Dwight the story of Loretta Nell's demise and the prophecy for her resurrection, Dwight had probably known who I was the second he saw my tattoo. And I'd stupidly done everything right under his nose.
Now that I’d made the connection, Dwight’s resemblance to Loretta Nell, his grandmother, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He looked like a male version of her with dark hair.
Tanner swerved over on the side of the road and grabbed my phone. "That little shit."
I put my cigarette to my lips with one shaking hand and dragged deeply. The burn of the smoke in my lungs pushed down my urge to scream and claw at my face.
"Dwight sends people out to that farmhouse for Loretta Nell to kill them." Tanner closed his eyes, fingers on the bridge of his nose.
"He killed Aaron." I rubbed at the headache forming in my neck. "He has the key to the book. He’s probably already dug it up."
"I don’t think so." Tanner set the phone aside and faced me. "Somehow Loretta Nell can’t show him where she’s buried. So he’s waiting for us to lead him to the book the same way we led him to Aaron Todd and the key."
Tanner started the truck, got us back on the road, and sped toward Devil’s Rest. The minutes dragged past, but my thoughts raced.
The truth of it all sunk in deep. Dwight had been keeping track of us the whole time I’d been in Devil’s Rest. I’d been so wrapped up in my own drama, I hadn’t even realized it. Stupid. He had done a better job of tricking me than Mohawk had. And he was winning.
The Serpent God's prophecy was coming true. Dwight had the key, thanks to me. Now all he needed was the book. Then he'd… The indescribable pictures of blood and gore floated behind my eyes again. I shuddered. No way I'd let that happen. I'd beat him in the end.
But something else nibbled at the edges of my thoughts. Some detail I’d forgotten. We passed a billboard showing a young woman leaning against a wall, her hair in her face. Josie. That was it. How did she play into Loretta Nell’s plans?
Then I saw it. Josie had eaten part of Loretta Nell’s spirit. Taken Loretta Nell into her as surely as Dwight had joined himself to Loretta Nell by being her grandson and sending her people to murder. The memory of Josie becoming Loretta Nell in those last moments I spent with her filled my head. I shuddered.
Loretta Nell would need Josie out of the mental hospital to finish the possession. Then whatever was left of Josie Stephens would be no more. She’d be all Loretta Nell Grimes, and she’d go on to help Dwight fulfill the Serpent God's prophecy.
I tried again to imagine what that would entail. That scene from my vision in the barn, where the kids in that church youth group tore each other apart, was the only information I had to go on. It was horrible enough.
Then I thought of something worse. What would Josie do to get out of the mental hospital to come help Dwight create carnage? I needed to warn Suzanne Fitch that Josie would try to break out soon. Maybe even tonight.
Disgust pumping through me with every beat of my heart, I took out my phone and called the mental hospital.
Barely listening to the automated menu, I pushed zero until I got a human voice and said, "Suzanne Fitch. This is an emergency."
One ring. Two rings.
"Suzanne Fitch. How may help you?" Suzy Fitch sounded frazzled.
"Josie’s going to try to escape today or tomorrow," I said.
"Who is this?" Fitch’s voice sharpened.
"Peri Jean Mace. I used magic to set some papers on fire in your office. Remember me?"
Fitch drew in a sharp breath, and her voice dropped to a near whisper. "How do you know?"
Too tired to explain, I said, "I just do. The guy who's going to break Josie out is named Dwight Carr. He's her cousin."
Fitch let out a sigh. "It's okay, Peri Jean. You don’t have anything to worry about. Dwight Carr has been banned from visiting Josie for almost a year now. He was caught being inappropriate with her."
My stomach gave another disgusted lurch. "Keep an eye out for him anyway."
"Oh, we will. I’ll tell Winslow and Adamick right now. Is that all?" Her voice had sharpened now that she had a plan.
"Yes," I said. Fitch hung up on me. I turned to Tanner. "Let’s stop by the Devil’s Slumber Inn. If Dwight’s there, we’ll make it where Fitch doesn’t have to worry ab
out him coming to get Josie."
Tanner drove like a speed demon all the way to Devil’s Rest. We screeched into the parking lot of the motel, parked the truck lopsided, and ran to the office. The door was locked. Tanner and I got on either side of a concrete planter, lifted it, and swung it at the aluminum and glass door. The glass shattered inward in a crumpled sheet. Tanner unlocked the door, and we went inside.
I climbed behind the partition, hurried through the office, and slammed into Dwight’s living quarters. The living room consisted of a gross couch with a cowboy roping cattle embroidered into the leather and wooden wagon wheels on each end.
A laptop sat open on the couch next to a stack of papers. I picked up the one on the top and recognized the ginormous list of email addresses I’d seen the day I checked into the Devil’s Slumber Inn. The next page showed the same thing.
"What is it?" Tanner said from behind me.
I handed the paper to him and went to the little apartment’s tiny bedroom. It reeked of sex and marijuana. The bed was unmade, stained sheets in full view. I checked the adjoining bathroom but found nothing more than another mess. I went back out into the living room to find Tanner studying the email addresses.
"Let’s go," I told him. "Dwight’s on the way to Austin already. Hopefully Adamick and Winslow can stop him from getting Josie out."
Tanner let the paper he was holding flutter to the floor. "Those two could stop an eighteen-wheeler."
We exchanged a smile. Though the timing was wrong, and we had miles to go on this journey, I went to Tanner and hugged him, just wanting to enjoy that split second of life with him. He laughed and hugged back.
"Let’s do it," he said.
We got back into his truck and started the drive to Stephens Ranch.
14
Tanner’s and my good mood died as soon as we got to the top of the hill and saw Pig-Face and Chubby from Roderick’s barbecue joint. They must have recovered from their beating enough to come back to their favorite hangout. Austin—aka Floppy Hair—must have still been languishing in his "comber."
