“Yeah. Maybe.” Ryan considered it. “Okay, I’ll only be a minute.” Popping the door on the cruiser, he slid outside and headed for the front porch.
Caden watched through the windshield. Most would have steered clear of purchasing the Jeffries house, knowing it had been the site of a double homicide, but Jerome Kelly was a strange bird. After Hank’s death, the house sat vacant for a number of months before Jerome bought it sight unseen. Rumor said he’d moved to Point Pleasant because he believed it was a hotspot for supernatural activity and UFO sightings. Toss in the fact Hank’s house bordered the TNT, and it was probably more appealing. Any paranormal expert worth his snot knew the TNT was the favored terrain of the Mothman.
Covered by the sleeve of his jacket, the welts on Caden’s forearm tingled—three red gashes, the center slightly longer than the rest. The branded mark of the Mothman where the creature had gripped him fifteen years ago. In all that time, the wounds had never faded, never healed. Now, the mere thought of the Mothman could reawaken his connection to the creature. He hadn’t seen it in four months. Not since it saved him and Eve from the man who’d murdered his sister, Maggie, and Wendy Lynch. He’d blamed himself for Maggie’s death when the Silver Bridge collapsed, and most everyone in town had labeled Wendy a runaway. It had taken fifteen long years for the truth to emerge. For Roger Layton to pay the price he deserved, killed by a creature most believed didn’t exist.
The brand tingled again.
Yeah. I know better. A lot better.
Exhaling, Caden scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere, but wondered how much longer his brother was going to wait. No one had answered Ryan’s knock. There hadn’t been the slightest twitch of movement behind the shuttered windows. Given the night he’d had, Jerome was probably out like a light.
Caden was about to honk the horn when Ryan held up a finger indicating another few seconds. He knocked again, then shifted to the side, peering through the front window. A few moments later, he trotted back to the car.
“Well?” Caden asked when he slid into the passenger’s seat.
“I think you’re right. He’s probably sleeping. No movement that I could see or hear.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Katie?”
“I’ll wait to call her. I can always ring his house again in a few hours.”
“It’s your show.” Caden backed out the driveway. “But I think you’re going to a lot of bother over this.”
“It’s no bother. Katie’s a friend. And I want to ask Jerome about Brown.”
Being at Hank’s place had made him momentarily forget the elusive deputy. It was possible someone could have slapped a Mason County Sheriff’s emblem on the side of a sedan, and pilfered a uniform and badge. Bottom line: they might have an imposter. “Did you tell Pete about Brown?”
“Yeah, I told him.” Sheriff Pete Weston, their boss, had been a good friend to their late father, Donal, and had watched Caden and Ryan grow up. “He put out a wire, but it’s hard to ID a guy without a description. Hopefully, Jerome can do a better job than Katie.”
“I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”
Caden punched the gas and headed down the road, a little too anxious to put the cheerless house behind him.
Katie took another sip of wine and sank back against the comfy sofa in Eve’s living room. Why had she let Sarah talk her into a second glass? She wanted her head clear in the event Ryan called about Jerome.
But the Chardonnay was smooth, and hanging out with her friends made her realize the fun she’d missed as a kid. Opportunities to giggle over boys, share nail polish, down soda, and eat fattening things like potato chips and cheese curls. Eve and Sarah’s rapid-fire gossip made her feel part of the group.
“Polly said its head exploded.” With an exaggerated shudder, Sarah grabbed a handful of popcorn from a big bowl on the coffee table. “Gruesome. Like something out of a horror movie.”
“I heard someone cut out its eyes and tongue.” Eve swirled the pale liquid in her glass with a grimace. “When I stopped at the grocery store, the woman at the register said it had to be the work of a satanic cult.”
Katie hadn’t heard about farmer Wilson’s dead cow until she’d arrived at Eve’s house. Maybe whatever had butchered the cow had taken Rex too. She hoped not. “I think everyone’s overreacting.” The practical side of her wasn’t easily swayed by rumors.
“What?” Eve turned sideways to face her, drawing a knee onto the sofa. “Come on, Katie. You have to admit last night was pretty strange. All those weird lights in the sky.”
“And poor Chester’s cow getting slaughtered.” Sarah reached for another handful of their buttery snack.
“I didn’t see any strange lights, and it sounds like the stuff about the cow has been exaggerated.” If there was something odd going on, Ryan would have told her. Unless…
She took a slow sip of wine.
Unless he didn’t want to worry her. According to Sarah, Ryan had been the one to respond to the call about the cow. And Sarah would know. Employed at the courthouse, she was often privy to scuttlebutt that filtered down from the sheriff’s office.
“But you had that strange encounter with Jerome and the weird deputy,” Eve protested.
Reluctantly, Katie nodded. She’d told both her friends about the encounter shortly after arriving. “Jerome was just shaken up,” she clarified. “And cold. It was probably nothing. Neither one of us saw any weird lights.”
“I didn’t, either,” Sarah chimed in, sounding almost disappointed. “But then I was in bed early. It’s pathetic when you’re dateless.”
“What about Darrell Mason?” Eve plucked an olive from the cheese tray. “I’ve seen him smiling at you when he delivers mail to the courthouse.”
“Darrell?” Sarah frowned. “Be serious, Eve. He was creepy when we were kids, and he’s still creepy. Always watching and listening.”