"I'm not resisting, Jed," I said. "And you should think long and hard about whether you want another body on your hands." I looked at him meaningfully. I chose my words carefully, knowing I was implying he had something to do with my parents' deaths.
I wanted to gauge his reaction. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I expected.
He narrowed his eyes, still not moving, and I was sure he was contemplating shooting me. But he didn't ask what the hell I was talking about.
I didn't know the hell was going on here, just that whatever it was, Jed was up to his fucking eyeballs in it.
I was sure of that. I knew it in my gut.
When Jed finally moved, it was to circle around behind me. I braced myself, expecting that this was it for me. "Are you going to shoot me in the back, Jed?" I asked. "That seems about right for someone like you."
But instead of a shot, I heard him speak. "Down on the ground," he said. "Put your hands above your head."
"Are you fucking joking?"
"I said, get down on the fucking ground and assume the position," Jed said. "Or do you not understand the simple fact that I am the law around here?"
I laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement, but got down on my knees, then on my stomach. "You sound like a cartoon villain," I said. "You can't come up with anything more creative than, 'I am the law around these parts?'"
Jed ignored me, yanking one hand and then the other behind my back and attaching plastic ties to my wrists, pulling them tight enough that they cut into my skin. "Is that a comfortable fit for you?" he asked. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable. The sheriff’s office prides ourselves on our humane treatment of prisoners."
He yanked me up, laughing as he pushed me toward the police car and opened the door, shoving me inside.
"Fuck you, Jed," I spat.
He started the engine and slid his mirrored sunglasses back on his face. "I told you before, Saint," he said. "You and those brothers of yours should tread real carefully. It would be a good idea for you to get a fresh start somewhere outside of West Bend."
"If you think this is going to make me less curious about whatever the hell's going on here, you're fucking crazy," I said.
If I wasn't interested before, I was now.
I sat outside on one of the rocking chairs on the front porch, sipping a cup of coffee and doing internet research on the mining company my grandmother had mentioned. It wasn't a large outfit, so there wasn't a whole lot of media presence, but they'd gotten into some trouble a few years ago, an accident that was settled out of court. There was an article in a small town newspaper that quoted the wife of one of the miners who had refused to settle, accusing the company of the usual stuff - unsafe conditions and so forth. I made a note of her name, but the case seemed pretty straightforward.
I wasn't finding much in the way of evidence that the company had been accused of anything nefarious in the past, although it would be a lot easier if I had Emir's internet-sleuthing capabilities. I contemplated calling him, but then I would have to explain what I was doing in West Bend, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I jumped when my cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Tempest? Is that you? It's hard to hear with the noise in the background here." It was my grandmother's voice, and I could hear the din of voices in the common area at the nursing home, out by the nursing station.
"Yeah, Nana, it's me," I said. "I was just about to head your direction to visit. I took a look at the paperwork you gave me. It looks like a straightforward offer to purchase your house. There's nothing hinky about that, at least."
"Oh, honey, that's lovely of you," she said. "But I'm not calling about that."
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"It's about the Saint brothers," she said.
I groaned. Why the hell she would call to bring up Silas, especially when I'd gone an entire morning not thinking about him, was beyond me. "Nana, I don't want to talk about Silas Saint."
"You need to hear me out," she said, then her voice was muffled. "Tell him I'm going to play bridge in five minutes."
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Not you, honey," she said. "I'm talking to Michael, here."
"I'm going to stop by soon, Nana," I said. "I'll see you in a few minutes and we can talk about it then then." I wanted to distract her from whatever nonsense she had in her head about Silas.
"No, Tempest," she said. "That's what I wanted to tell you. You shouldn't come here."
"What? Why not?"
"We were listening to the police scanner," she said. "The girls and I."
"Jesus, Nana," I said. "The police scanner? Really?"
"I like it," she said. "It keeps me apprised of what's going on in this town. You can't rely on the newspaper, you know. I like my information up to the minute. Besides, there are some truckers I talk to on the CB radio. They have some filthy mouths on them, too, like to give me their best sexy talk."
I choked back a laugh. "I don't need to hear about you talking dirty to truckers, Nana."