Demon Hunting In the Deep South (6 page)

As for Willa Dean, Evie was pretty sure the old grump just had her first Big One in twenty years. Maybe ever.

Even Frodo the Misandrous Chihuahua shut the hell up.

“Wow.” Mullet Woman gazed at Ansgar in awe. “Say something else. Anything. Listening to you talk makes my Happy Place go all warm and tingly. And I’d plum forgot I
had
a Happy Place.”

“Congratulations. I am gratified to hear it. The dog, madam, if you please.”

Mullet Woman sighed. “Okay, it’s your funeral.”

She handed him the Chihuahua. Holding the writhing dog at arm’s length, Ansgar gazed into the cone. “Hear me, fiend. Sting me with thy teeth to thy everlasting regret.”

To Evie’s surprise, Frodo subsided with a disgruntled growl. Tucking the five-pound dog under one arm, Ansgar walked across the room and stood near the door.

“Most ridiculous thing I ever saw, that great big guy holding that itty-bitty butt-ugly dog.” Shaking her head, Willa Dean picked up the telephone and pushed a button. “Sheriff, could you come out here? There’s a woman here who insists on seeing you.”

“What the Sam Hill’s going on?” Sheriff Whitsun said, coming out of the back a moment later. “I’m trying to talk to the forensics guy in Mobile, and I can’t hear myself think for the racket. Sounds like somebody’s scalding a bobcat out here.”

Willa Dean pushed to her feet. “This woman wants a restraining order. I tried to tell her we don’t do that kind of thing, but nothing doing, she has to talk to you. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. It’s time for my co-cola break.”

She flounced through the swinging door.

Mullet Woman pounced on the startled sheriff in an earthquake of jiggling boobs. “You Sheriff Whitsun?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Nicole Eubanks,” she continued, panting a little. “And I need me that restraining order. Real bad.”

The sheriff held up his hand. “One thing at a time, Ms. Eubanks. Where do you live?”

“Quit my job at the Gas ’N Gulp and moved to Hannah last week. No choice. Me and Frodo had to get outta Baldwin County. Fast, on account of we got us a dog stalker.”

“Hannah? Well, now, you’ll have to—” Whitsun faltered. “You got a what?”

“A dog stalker. His name is Sylvester Snippet. He’s a vet in Stapleton, and he’s trying to murder my dog.”

“I know I’m gonna be sorry I asked,” the sheriff said, “but why is a vet trying to kill your dog?”

“That Snippet feller called me a Chunky Monkey and asked me didn’t I want to eat his banana.”

The sheriff choked. “Are you saying your dog bit the vet because he said something
rude
to you?”

“Took off two of his fingers,” Mullet Woman said. “That Snippet’s a lucky son of a gun. Frodo was going for his banana.” She waved her hand, indicating the Chihuahua. “There’s my baby. Smile for the sheriff, Precious.”

Frodo peeled his lips back, revealing a double row of foam-flecked, razor-sharp teeth.

“God almighty, that’s a dog? It’s got teeth like an alligator.” The sheriff seemed to notice Ansgar for the first time. For a big, supernaturally handsome guy, Ansgar had a way of fading into the woodwork when he wanted to. “Who are you?” Whitsun asked.

“I am Ansgar.”

“Are you with this woman?”

“No.”

“Don’t I wish.” Mullet Woman gave a wistful sigh and shook her head. “My hootie says,
Hey, baby, you know what I like,
but my head says,
Are you nuts, Nikki? The last guy took you to the cleaners.
My hootie can talk all it wants. From now on, I’m listening to my head. Frodo and I have sworn off men but good.”

The poor sheriff looked a little glassy eyed. “Uh huh,” he said. “Seeing as you live in Hannah, you’ll need to speak to the Chief of Police. His name’s Carl Davis. He’s a good man. He’ll take your complaint.”

“Will he give me a restraining order?”

“No, he can’t do that. But he’ll talk to this Snippet if he comes around and tell him to leave you and your dog alone.”

“But that won’t do no good! I’ve done talked to the man till I’m blue in the face.” Mullet Woman’s round face creased in distress. “I offered to pay his medical bills and everything. But nothing doing. I’m telling you, the man ain’t right. He won’t stop until my Precious is dead. You got to do something.”

“I can’t give you a restraining order, Ms. Eubanks. You’ll have to file a motion in court for that. You can do it yourself or hire a lawyer to draw up the papers for you.”

“But that could take months.” Mullet Woman seemed to wilt. “I don’t know nothing about that legal stuff, and I ain’t got no money for a lawyer. I quit my job as cashier at the Gas ’N Gulp and moved here because I’m afraid for Frodo’s life.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s the law.”

“Well, the law stinks.” Evie surprised herself by speaking up. But she couldn’t keep still any longer. She turned to Mullet Woman. “You looking for a job?”

Mullet Woman nodded. “Yeah, but I’m new in town and you know how that is.”

No, she didn’t. Evie had never lived anywhere but Hannah.

“My friend Addy runs the flower shop on Main Street,” Evie said. “
Flowers by Adara.
Do you know it?”

“Yeah.” Mullet Woman’s blue eyes glistened with tears. “South of the funeral home and over the river bridge, ain’t it?”

“That’s the one. You come in first thing tomorrow morning. I know for a fact Addy’s looking for somebody to drive the delivery van. You can drive, right?”

“Are you kidding? If it’s got wheels, I can drive it. Fix it, too. My daddy was a grease monkey.” Mullet Woman grinned and pumped Evie’s hand up and down. “You’re an angel, Miss. A purentee angel. The good Lord put you here to help me, I just know it. What’s your name?”

“Evie Douglass.”

“Evie. That’s a real pretty name.” Mullet Woman glanced at Ansgar. “You got man troubles of your own, Miss Evie? Is that why you’re here?”

“No, nothing like that.” Embarrassed, Evie hesitated. The reality of her situation was too awful to contemplate, much less say aloud. She drew a deep breath and blurted it out. “They think I killed a woman.”

Mullet Woman’s eyes grew round. “Get out of this town! Did you do it?”

“No!”

“Of course you didn’t. You’re too sweet and good.” Mullet Woman shot Sheriff Whitsun a look of reproach. “Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could figure that out. Well, Miss Douglass, you won’t regret this. Me and Frodo won’t let you down. You betcha bottom dollar we won’t.”

“Wait,” Evie said with a stab of panic. “I didn’t mean for you to bring the dog. I’m not so sure how Addy will feel about—”

Moving like a pink and black polyester whirlwind, Mullet Woman snatched the Chihuahua out of Ansgar’s hands and blew back out the door.

Chapter Six

“O
h, man,” Evie said. “Addy’s gonna kill me.”

The sheriff’s mouth twitched. “You don’t know that woman from Adam, do you? Are you always so impulsive?”

“I’m usually not impulsive at all.” She glared at him. “But somebody had to help her, and it was obvious you weren’t going to do anything.”

Whoa, where did that come from? Shy, self-conscious Evie Douglass wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Yet here she was bowing up at the sheriff.

Twice.

It must be Mullet Woman. Evie could relate to her, with her People of Walmart fashion sense and her disaster of a hairdo. No doubt people made fun of her. Evie knew what that felt like.

And Mullet Woman seemed so alone. Evie knew about that, too.

Or maybe you’re tired of being such a doormat and eating that crap sandwich you’ve been chewing on most of your life. God, I hope so, ’cause being you
blows
. Big time.

Evie started. Where did that thought come from?

To her relief, the entrance door opened and Addy stuck her head in the room. “Hey, what’s the holdup? Did you leave your purse in Timbuktu?”

“Sorry,” Evie mumbled.

Ducking her head, she hurried out of the sheriff’s office and into the hallway. For goodness’ sakes, she was borderline rude to the man and she’d hired a stranger to work in Addy’s flower shop. Without asking.

A stranger with a mutant flesh-eating dog.

What was the matter with her?

It had been a horrible day. That was the problem. This morning started out like any other, boring and familiar. She’d waded through the sameness to work, aware of the dull, aching weight of depression bearing down on her, a feeling of soul-numbing sorrow she could not shake. Then, without warning, her day morphed into something else. Meredith was dead. And mousy Evie Douglass, who never got so much as a conduct check in school, was a person of interest in a murder. Small wonder she was rattled.

The back of her neck tingled. Oh, Lord, Ansgar was behind her. He moved without sound. But she knew he was there. She could
feel
him, for Pete’s sake.

He was a big part of why she was on edge. Being near him shattered her nerves; he was so intimidating and gosh-darn perfect.

A few minutes ago, she’d been in his arms. The thought of it made her shiver. She’d opened her eyes and found herself heartbeat to heartbeat with the most beautiful man in the world, her breasts pressed against his broad chest. He radiated heat and strength and danger. She wanted to sink into him.

She wanted to run away.

God, she was a basket case.

Cheeks burning, Evie scurried up the basement stairs and into the rotunda of the courthouse, a domed structure built in 1898. Eager for some fresh air after the hours of confinement in the sheriff’s office, she darted across the gleaming expanse of marble floor and pushed open one of the brass-plated glass doors. She stepped outside into the sunshine and took a deep breath.

The air held the crisp tang of autumn, and the October sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue. Beautiful and serene. Perfect, like the endless grace of God.

Hard to believe anything bad could happen on a day like today. But it had, and in spades. A few hours ago, she’d looked upon the face of death and felt the presence of evil. Whatever malignant thing had been in the office with her this morning was still out there, watching and waiting. It had killed Meredith and liked it. It would kill again.

Addy paused on the portico beside her. “Where’s the fire?”

“I’m tired and I want to go home,” Evie said, hurrying down the steps.

She’d go home, fix herself a cup of hot tea, and curl up in her favorite chair. She’d try to forget the events of the past few hours. Meredith’s tortured body tossed across her desk at the mill like so much messy, discarded trash. The nerve-racking wait in the tiny backroom of the sheriff’s office followed by the exhausting two-hour interrogation by Whitsun himself—El Lobo in a khaki shirt with a built-in lie-detecting snoot.

Last but not least, leaving Whitsun’s cramped office and running smack into Ansgar, with his bedroom eyes and velvet voice.

Don’t go there,
she told herself sternly.
He’s a major hottie and he’s not for you.

How do you know if you never give it a try?
Unbidden, the rebellious thought floated through her mind.
Flirt with him and see what happens. What have you got to lose?

She reached the curb, flung open the back door of Addy’s delivery van, and climbed in. Glancing back, she watched Ansgar walk down the worn concrete steps at the front of the courthouse. He might be dressed in modern clothes, but he moved like a warrior, all hard muscle and predatory grace. A man in a business suit shot him a startled glance and leaped out of his way, like an alarmed impala avoiding a hungry lion. Two women stopped in their tracks to gawk at him, their mouths hanging open at his masculine deliciousness.

What did she have to lose? she thought, watching him stride toward the van in all his glory, his long hair gleaming in the sun like a blond halo.

How ’bout body and soul, for starters?

The ride home was miserable. Addy drove and Brand sat beside her in the front of the van.

Well, duh, no surprise there. Brand was never far away from Addy. They were in love with a capital L. Addy had won the Trifecta of boyfriends: handsome, sexy, faithful, and adoring.

Wait. That was four. Sadly, the list went on and on. Sadly for
her,
not Addy. Addy was in hog heaven with her demon hunter.

Evie was happy for her BFF. Really. But sometimes when Brand looked at Addy like he wanted to eat her with a spoon one slow bite at a time, Evie got the teensiest bit jealous.

Okay, she was rotten with it, but she would deal.

What she couldn’t deal with was the seating arrangement. Addy and Brand were in the front, which left Evie in the back of the van with Ansgar the Nordic god of Splendor. She clung to her side of the van like a suckerfish in a vain attempt to keep some space between them. It was a waste of time. He was a big guy, and the van had all the suspension of a Conestoga wagon. Every time Addy rounded a curve, Evie swayed against Ansgar’s muscular thigh. She couldn’t help it. There was no
oh shit handle
in the back, and gravity, physics, and her less than dainty weight were against her. She kept rolling into him like a drunken penguin.