Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (30 page)
He pulled over to the shoulder of the road alongside Rose’s property, hugging the ditch. “She doesn’t have much in the way of a driveway, and I think it’s safer all around to walk up to the house and knock.” The twin bare tire trails leading from the road made a wide swoop around the cabin to the ramshackle lean-to to the rear of the structure. There was no telling from here what kind of shape the “drive” was in, and he wasn’t anxious to scrape off vital parts of his car finding out.
Turning off the ignition, he said, “Better slide across this way. Don’t want you tumblin’ into the ditch on your side.”
Dev waited for her to follow him out before closing the door and locking the car. Shoving the keys in his pants pocket, he took her hand and headed toward the tire tracks leading to the house. He felt the immediate tension that shot through her at the gesture.
“Ground’s gonna be uneven,” he observed casually. “Don’t know what Rose is drivin’ these days, but figure it’s still that big ol’ barge of a Buick she’s had since the sixties. She doesn’t use it enough to keep the drive level.”
As they strode closer to the cabin, he was struck by the tranquility of the scene. Already the locusts were tuning up, and fireflies blinked as they darted about. The property boasted a large clearing, mostly filled with knee-high weeds, and was fringed on two sides by woods. “Pretty place.”
“If you like nature.”
Humor flashed. “If you like nature,” he agreed. “I ’spect Rose mostly likes the privacy.”
“There are no lights on,” Ramsey pointed out. She stumbled then, just a little, and he paused to support her.
“I can still recall when Rose had this place outfitted with electricity. I doubt she’d be one to waste it.” They were standing in front of the steps now, and the dark windows didn’t have him lessening his guard. It was the old woman’s penchant for shooting first and asking questions later that had him wary. “Be best for you to wait here, and I’ll go up and knock. Get an idea what our welcome will be.” Although with Rose, welcome was a relative term.
“Nice try.” Ramsey began striding to the house ahead of him. He caught up with her at the steps of the porch. “But I don’t need protecting.”
“You’ve never met Rose,” he muttered. But rather than arguing, he inserted himself in front of her so he’d be first at the door. And hoped Rose hadn’t exchanged buckshot for bullets in the years since he’d seen her.
But knocking for a full five minutes failed to rouse anyone. “Odd.” He looked at Ramsey, who was trying to peer into the curtained windows. “Haven’t heard anythin’ in town ’bout her health. But I s’pose she could have gone to visit those relatives of hers.” He had a hard time imagining it, though. He doubted she was any closer to them than she was to her neighbors.
“Even if she’s sleeping, you’d think the knocking would have wakened her.”
“Not if she’s in the habit of takin’ something to sleep.” Who knew—the woman might even be self-dosing with something holistic for some age-related ailment. “Probably the best thing to do would be to come by sometime in the daytime, since you’ve missed her twice in the evening.”
“I suppose.” Disappointment tinged Ramsey’s tone as they made their way back down the steps. “I’ll be out of town for a day or two, so it’ll be a while before I have an opportunity.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to question her about that, although he assumed her trip had something to do with the case, meaning she wouldn’t tell him much. But as they rounded the edge of the cabin to head back to the road, his mind was wiped clean by the sight of a shotgun pointed at them.
“Jesus!” Dev shoved Ramsey aside and stepped to place himself between her and the woman wielding the gun. “Ms. Thornton. It’s Devlin Stryker. Good to see you again.”
Surprisingly, she looked much as she had when he’d last seen her, although that had to have been five or six years ago. He recognized the tattered wide-brimmed straw hat she wore, with the spiky iron gray tufts of hair poking out beneath it. The shapeless man’s coat, flannel shirt, suspenders and jeans also looked familiar.
But damned if the gun wasn’t even more memorable.
“Stryker.” Her voice was the same raspy croak he remembered. “You haven’t outgrown your habit of sneakin’ round where you ain’t wanted.”
“Actually, we came to see you.” He shifted just enough so she could glimpse Ramsey but hopefully not enough to provide her with a clear target. “This is Ramsey Clark. She’s interested in talkin’ to you ’bout your healin’ work.”
The weapon lowered as the woman eyed them both suspiciously. “She don’t look sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
Too late Dev recognized that Ramsey had stepped out from behind him to face the woman. “I’m working with TBI on a homicide case. I understand you’re very knowledgeable about healing herbs and plants.”
“Not much I don’t know ’bout ’em,” the woman agreed, the weapon lowering enough to have Dev breathing easier. “But I don’t hold with people trampin’ ’round my property without permission.” Her glare, which swept the both of them, was fierce. “ ’Specially the law.”
“We’re here only to see you,” Ramsey emphasized. “I have just a few questions, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Seemingly mollified, the older woman cradled the shotgun in her arms, surveying them. The shadows cast by the cabin in the dwindling light shrouded her face.
“I’m especially interested in reasons a specific plant root would be ingested,” Ramsey put in.
“Lots of reasons people might take such a thing. Like if’n they’re ailin’.” Rose’s words were grudging. “Or wardin’ off gettin’ sick. Lots more reasons that have nuthin’ to do with health.”
“What would those be?”
“Not much some won’t do to get their head buzzin’.” She used the rifle barrel to gesture in Dev’s direction, a gesture that caused him a moment of nerves. “This’a one here is proof of that. Used to lay out of school regular to lurk down here with his no-account cousin gettin’ liquored up.”
He felt compelled to come to his own defense. “Actually, it was only that one time.”
Both women ignored him. “So other than medicinal purposes, some plants are used as an intoxicant,” Ramsey noted.
“And there’s them used in ceremonies of a sort.”
“Like hoodoo? Witchcraft or dabblers with the occult?”
“Witchcraft and religion.” Rose’s face screwed up in an expression of disgust. “Difference ’tween the two don’t ’mount to a bucket of warm spit.”
Dev slid a gaze toward Ramsey. He’d mentioned as much—a great deal less colorfully—earlier today.
But if she recalled it, there was no sign in her expression. She was studying Rose intently. “Do you still practice healing?”
“Slowed down some. Can’t keep up the garden all on my own.”
His attention jerked back to Rose. In all the time he’d known her, he’d never heard her admit to physical weakness. “If you need some help, Rose, I’m sure I can . . .”
“Din’t ask for help, now, did I?” The snap in the woman’s tone was all too familiar. “Don’t need you out back diggin’ holes all willy-nilly. Got folks laid to rest on this property, and I won’t have ’em disturbed.”
“Is your husband buried here?” Ramsey asked in a voice softer than he’d ever heard from her.
“He is. Buried him myself, and din’t need no preacher from town sayin’ words over ’em, neither.”
No doubt there were ordinances prohibiting that these days, but Dev figured the powers that be in town had turned a blind eye. Few would have been willing to take on Rose, even less so years ago than now.
Another thought struck him then, and he arrowed a look at the older woman. “Learned just recently that this cabin might’ve been the first structure in these parts. That it was built by Rufus Ashton, the town’s founder.”
“I wouldn’t be knowin’ ’bout that.” She took a step back. “You two get on outta here now. A body’s got a right to turn in at night without worryin’ ’bout nosybodies pokin’ ’round.” She leveled a stare at Ramsey. “You need to keep your watch up, missy. Hornin’ in ’round these parts is baitin’ trouble. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if’n you found it.”
“What do you . . .” But Ramsey’s question was leveled at the woman’s back. Rose walked, surprisingly briskly, toward the back of the cabin, rounded the corner, and moved out of sight.
The two of them blinked after her. “Was she actually threatening me?” Ramsey asked, clearly nonplussed.
“Warnin’ you, most likely.” With a hand to her elbow, Dev turned her toward the car. The conversation had been surprisingly civil for Rose. He wasn’t anxious to push their luck. “It’s not like you haven’t heard over and over that murder ’round these parts gets some folks antsy ’bout talkin’ to outsiders.”
“I wasn’t talking to her about murder,” she pointed out. She began to move, slowly, in the direction of the vehicle. “At least, not directly.”
“Close enough. Her talkin’ ’bout buryin’ her husband on the property put me in mind of somethin’ though.”
“Don’t tell me.” It was too dark to see her roll her eyes, but he could hear the emotion in her voice. “Not another graveyard outing. What would Jim Thornton have to do with the legend?”
“Not Jim Thornton.” Headlights speared through the approaching darkness as a lone car rolled down the road before them. “I’m wonderin’ about Rufus Ashton. Goes to figure that the earliest settlers here wouldn’t have a graveyard, that they’d bury their dead on their property, much the way Kuempers did. And given the lights you saw yesterday, that gives me one more reason to want to check this property out further.”
“You might want to consider a little thing called trespassing,” she said caustically as they started up the incline toward the road. “Rose looked pretty serious with that shotgun. She’d be well within her rights to use it if she finds you on her property again without permission.”
“I was gonna ask her ’bout it when she up and left.” Although in this instance it just might be better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. Rose likely wouldn’t even know he was there.
“You’re wasting your time.” Back at the car now, Ramsey followed him to his side to get in. Once she’d slid across the seat, she waited for him to get in before continuing. “I know what I saw, and it wasn’t in the least ghostly. It was just . . .”
When her words halted abruptly, he shot her a look and found her staring out the window toward the Thornton place. Following the direction of her gaze, he felt a spurt of adrenaline rocket through his body.
The lights were clear from the road. Bouncing, dancing balls of illumination along the edge of the woods. They skipped and slid from side to side before darting in the opposite direction. He stared for a moment in fascination before the scientist in him clicked into place.
He was reminded of his reason for waiting until near dark to come here tonight. There was no way in hell he was leaving here without getting a closer look.
“You can stay in the car. I won’t be put out if you do.” He popped the trunk and was out the door before Ramsey could fashion a response. He grabbed the baseball cap he’d fitted with the camp light and donned it, his mind whirring.
It would be good to take the motion detector. Determine once and for all if someone was ’round to cause those lights. He grabbed the thermal scanner and EMF meter. He’d need the infrared digital thermometer with laser pointer, but he left the ion detector and gaussometer. He could always come back and get those if he needed to.
“What the hell?” He hadn’t even heard Ramsey’s approach. She stood by his side gaping down into his trunk. “You can’t tell me you’re going to . . . Dev!”
He headed back toward the Thornton property. “If you’re comin’, bring that big Mag-Lite, will you?”
“I’m not coming because I don’t want to give you a reason to play doctor picking buckshot out of my butt. Dammit!”
Her voice, he noted as he jogged toward where those lights still bounced and skated about, got a little meaner when she didn’t get her way. He was willing to bet it didn’t happen often enough for her to get used to it.
And then all his focus shifted to the lights ahead of him. They could be some sort of reflection, he considered, shifting the strap of one bag to reposition it on his shoulder. But from what? He sent a look up and down the road over his shoulder, looking for cars. All he saw was a light on low beam heading toward him.
His mouth kicked up. So Ramsey was coming after all. Disgruntled without a doubt, but still joining him.
Rose’s house as he passed by it was dark. No lights shone from within. The woman had indicated she was going to bed. Had she just been trying to get rid of them? Was she in the woods doing . . . something . . . that would account for the lights up ahead? He found it hard to fathom.
Which didn’t mean someone else wasn’t in those woods.
One moment the lights were there. The next they’d vanished, as if someone had turned off a switch. “Shit,” he muttered, breaking into a run. But when he’d reached the edge of the woods, there was still no sign of them.
He set the bags on the ground and went down on one knee, rummaging through them for the infrared digital thermometer. He aimed the laser pointer in the direction the lights had been, but he didn’t need a reading to recognize the change. Nights cooled down this time of year. But the surrounding air was frigid.
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