Never Again (16 page)
“He didn’t show up for the inspection, no sir. Says right on the town books that I got rights. If the Guardian don’t keep his word, his word is no longer law. Says it right there.” She leaned forward and tapped the page with her sharp, pink nail.
Taylor squinted down at the old ledger with its yellowed pages. It was one of the books written by the first sheriff, a series of laws enacted by the original Guardian to ensure the protection of the town and its people. How Cathleen had known about the tome when he hadn’t stuck in his craw. She didn’t read anything that might have truth in it, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have the attention span or interest to dig through arcane law books.
Still, she’d marched right to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the left side of his office and pulled it out from the first column, third shelf. It was among a bunch of oversized, thick law books Taylor had thought of as fancy dressing for his office rather than contributions to his work.
“You see, Sheriff?” She lifted her chin and sniffed, thoroughly playing the offended party. “I made sure everything was right and proper. And he didn’t even bother to show up. What kind of Guardian is he?”
“Would you like to ask him?” Taylor leaned back in his chair and pinned her with a hard stare. “I’m sure Gray would be happy to give you a demonstration—just so you’re real clear on the kind of Guardian he is.”
Cathleen’s face mottled, but she took the hint and shut her mouth. Taylor might have his own issues with the way Gray handled his Guardian’s duties, but that didn’t mean he deserved anything less than Taylor’s loyalty and public support.
Taylor read the ledger again. Law was law. Gray would be pissed, but it was his fault. He should’ve remembered the damned inspection. Taylor had no choice. He had to let Cathleen reopen the café.
“Hey, Taylor. There’s a—”
Deputy Ren Banton stopped in the doorway, and took in the scene. His dark gaze moved from Cathleen to Taylor. He quirked an eyebrow at Taylor, and then he had the nerve to grin, just a little.
“You need something, Ren?”
“Accident off Brujo Boulevard, up near the fork to Old Creek.”
Taylor’s gaze went to the phone on his desk, and then to the bowl of water he kept for communication spells. He couldn’t enact one, but he could receive them. Ren saw the direction of his gaze, and shrugged. “That’s up near our farm. Dad called me when he found the wreck.”
Ren’s dad was Harley Banton—a widower who’d had to raise his son alone. It was a sad fact that Ren’s mama, Lara, had committed suicide. Ren had been only a few months old, about the same age as Ant when it happened. His wife’s suicide had nearly broken Harley, and he became something of a recluse. A note had never been found, either, which Taylor had always thought odd. Lara was quite a bit younger than her husband, the niece of the Wilson twins who came to live with her aunts. The Wilson twins ran the library, Tuesday through Friday, eight a.m. to four p.m. They were both in their seventies and as persnickety as ever. Goddess help you if you kept a book past its turn-in date. They’d loved their niece dearly, and they’d been devastated when she’d taken her life by overdosing on Valium.
It had been a double blow to the town. First, to see one of their own abandon his kin to chase a skirt, and second, to see a vibrant young woman take her own life. The two events had been only a couple weeks apart—and both had fed the gossip mills for months.
So, yeah, Ren was young, barely twenty, but solid. He’d graduated from high school with Ant and he was one of the few kids who’d stuck around. Most of Nevermore’s children left. Some stayed and some came back, but most wanted to pursue lives outside of small-town living and backbreaking farmwork. He and Ant had once been close, but as their interests diversified, they’d drifted apart. Seemed to Taylor that his little brother cared a lot more about plants than he did people.
“Taylor?”
Taylor blinked and found both Ren and Cathleen staring at him. Shit. He’d been drifting again, losing his focus.
“All right, then,” he said wearily. “Let’s go.”
“What about me?” asked Cathleen in a high-pitched voice. “What about my rights?”
“You can reopen the café.” He needed coffee, and aspirin. Ren saluted him, and walked out, probably to go start up their only law enforcement vehicle, an SUV that had seen better days.
Taylor watched Cathleen pop up from the chair. She looked like a vicious little bird hopping from tree branch to tree branch, hoping for the opportunity to peck out someone’s eyes. He was sick that she hadn’t asked about her stepdaughter. Not once. When he’d told her about Marcy two days ago, all Cathleen could do was lament about not being able to find good help.
Who’s gonna be my waitress now?
she’d wailed. She acted like Marcy had gotten murdered just to inconvenience her.
Who’s gonna be my waitress now?
she’d wailed. She acted like Marcy had gotten murdered just to inconvenience her.
“Will the wake be tomorrow?” asked Taylor pleasantly.
Cathleen stopped in the doorway and turned toward him, her eyes narrowed. “What wake?”
“For Marcy,” said Taylor. “The autopsy’s done. Her body’s ready to be released. I assume you’ve made arrangements for her burial?”
Cathleen said nothing for a moment, and he knew she was calculating all the money she’d lose giving out free food to mourners. Anger pulsed through him. He wanted to take out his gun and shoot her.
“Wakes are tradition in Nevermore,” said Taylor, as if she needed reminding. She’d outlived her father-in-law and her husband, both of whom had wakes at the café. He’d be damned if he let her wiggle out of giving Marcy one. “Everyone will want a chance to say their good-byes.”
Apparently Cathleen decided she’d won enough battles today. She grudgingly nodded. “Of course, I’m having a wake. She was my kin.” She regarded him, her lips curled. “I can open the café right now, though, right?”
“I can’t stop you.”
That pleased her. She offered a tepid smile, and then she spun and marched out.
“Goddess, forgive me, but I hate that woman.” Taylor checked his weapons belt and made sure all was in order. Then he plucked his hat from his desk and put it on.
Arlene was coming in as he was going out.
“What in the world did Cathleen Munch want?” she asked. Then she took one look at his expression, opened her big red bag, and out came a thermos of coffee and a bottle of aspirin, which she pressed into his hands.
Taylor leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I think I’d like to marry you, Arlene.”
“Already taken,” she said. “But if things don’t work out, I’ll let you know.”
Since she’d been happily married for thirty-five years, he doubted he still had a shot. “Jimmy’s damned lucky.”
“He sure is.”
Taylor left, feeling a smidge better.
Arlene stood in the lobby and looked around. “I really need to come in earlier,” she said to the empty office. “I always miss the good stuff.”
Gray sat on the shore and watched Lucy swim. She seemed to never tire of the water, or maybe it was just that she was tired of him. Okay. She hadn’t exactly been avoiding him. She still had an easy enough manner, even when she asked him to create a one-piece bathing suit, which he reluctantly did. Unfortunately, having more of her covered up did nothing to soothe his raging libido.
Guardian.
Startled, he glanced up at the pink sky. “Ember?”
Oh, dere you are. Time to come home now. We got work to do.
“What about Lucy?”
Her suffering over, now she got to recover. Her body weak from all dat pain.
“Maybe it would be better to stay here until she’s fully healed.”
Or maybe it better for you.
Gray sighed. “I’ll send her back first.” He paused. “Are you in my bedroom?”
Me an’ the sheriff. Sorry ’bout the door.
“The door?”
But Ember’s voice was gone. Once again he was awed by her power, and he wondered just what kind of magical she was.
How long had he and Lucy been dreaming?
Suddenly worried, he called Lucy to the shore.
It was time to go back to reality.
Where his regrets lived.
When Gray woke up, his eyes felt like sandpaper and his throat was as dry as a Texan’s sense of humor. His hand clutched the pillow next to him, right where Lucy’s head should be. He shot up, panicked.
“Whoa, pardner,” drawled Taylor. He stood next to the bed holding a glass of water. “Ember took Lucinda into the bathroom to clean her. She was a mess.” He handed Gray the water, and wrinkled his nose. “You could use a good dunking, too.”
Gray gulped down the cool liquid. “How long have we been out?”
“Three days. Grit’s been worried about you.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said. Taylor had known about Gray’s dream forays—and that Grit’s sudden, awful decline had ended those journeys. He’d barely gotten his grandfather into his mother’s care before he’d crashed. “I swear it.”
“I believe you.”
Gray’s limbs felt achy and numb. And he had to piss bad.
Taylor seemed to read his mind. “It’s a wonder you both didn’t pee the bed.”
“I was dream walking with her. The body practically shuts down when you go that deep.”
Taylor jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Ember took her to the hallway bathroom because the tub’s bigger.”
Gray got out of bed. His limbs prickled as blood rushed into places that had been still and numb for three days. Being upright made him dizzy, and he dropped the empty glass onto the floor. It rolled under the bed and clinked against something. He had no idea what was under his bed. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to clean out any science experiments.
“You need help?”
“I got it.” Gray stumbled into the master bath and took care of business. As he washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was greasy, his face covered with stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot. He smelled like he’d fallen into horse manure. His clothes were stained with Lucy’s blood and his own sweat, not to mention wrinkled and smelly from soaking up all that rain.
When he exited the bathroom, Taylor was standing by the bedroom door. “I figure you wanna check on her first.”
Gray wanted to see Lucy with his own eyes, even though he knew Ember would take good care of her. Something about that woman inspired compassion and trust. As he got to the door, he paused. “You going soft on me, Mooreland?”
“Your fingers were tangled in her hair,” he said. “The back of her hand was resting against your cheek. Don’t know if you’ll like it, Gray, but you two have a connection now. She’s yours.” He eyed him and tipped his hat back. “Or is she?”
“Mine,” agreed Gray.
The door to the bathroom was closed, but this was his house, damn it, so he opened it and strode inside.
Ember knelt on the tiled floor next to the claw-foot tub. She murmured as she wiped Lucy’s face with a washcloth. Lucy’s eyes were closed, and he realized she was still unconscious. She was in her own dreamland now, and he wished he could be there with her.
“I got a spell holding her above da water,” said Ember. “She won’t drown.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Will you, now?” Ember draped the cloth over the rim of the tub, and stood up. She turned around, hands on her hips, and stared him down.
Once again, Gray felt like a novice in the presence of a master Dragon.
“She’s mine,” he offered simply.
Ember was unimpressed. “Don’t you claim her ’cause you need to clear your conscience. You can’t have it both ways, Guardian. You can’t feel guilty you doin’ da wrong tings, then accuse her of manipulatin’ your feelings.”
Gray’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know I was . . . that was only in my own head!”
“Da Goddess told me. She say you can’t hide no more.” Ember touched the edge of the black side of her glasses. “Everyting got a price. Sometimes good tings require sacrifice, and sometimes bad tings give you gifts. You went to hell, but you got a gift, too.”
“No,” said Gray. His blood ran cold. That was his secret, his burden, and his alone. “This isn’t about me.”
“Will be soon enough. But dat’s your journey to take, oh stubborn one.” She crossed her arms. “You gonna go?”
“It’s my damned house!”
Ember shrugged, and Gray saw that he’d have a better chance of moving a mountain than getting that woman out of his bathroom. She had the audacity to
shoo
him. “Go take care of yourself. Den come back and tell me how you gonna claim dis woman.”
shoo
him. “Go take care of yourself. Den come back and tell me how you gonna claim dis woman.”
She waved her hands at him again, and Gray gave up. His own smell was making his eyes water. And now that he knew Lucy was okay, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt for him to take a shower.
Taylor stood in the hallway, smirking.
“Shut up,” said Gray. “Just shut the hell up.”
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