“Lyle, I never—”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Lyle balled his hands into fists and screamed at the top of his lungs. Whirling, he spun in a circle and clutched his hair again. “I tried to talk to her, but she shut me out. I was angry. She’d made a fool of herself rather than listen to me. We argued, and I pushed her. Oh, God! Oh, God!” He buckled to his knees. “I pushed her and she fell.” Curling in on himself, he locked both arms over his head. Deep sobs ripped from his throat, punishing his body with convulsions.
Caden used his heels to brace himself against the wall. Awkwardly, he manipulated his shoulders to scramble upright, all the while sawing the rope across the stone. It wouldn’t take Mason long to become completely unhinged after his meltdown.
“It was an accident, Lyle.”
“No. No.” The sobs were tortuous, gut-wrenching. A primal weeping that bore little resemblance to anything human. “Someone has to pay for her death.” He looked up, his face streaked by dirt and tears, spittle clinging to his cracked lips. “I’m sorry, Caden.” He reached behind his back and pulled a black object from his waistband.
The rope snapped on Caden’s wrists. He dove to the side as the crack of a bullet struck the wall behind him.
The parade had ended and Main Street was quiet. His shift over, Ryan walked to the parking lot, debating the wisdom of heading to the TNT. In a little over an hour, Jerome would be camped out near his house waiting for Indrid Cold to appear, like Linus anticipating the arrival of the Great Pumpkin. He could play Sally Brown and stake out the pumpkin patch too, but the whole thing was probably a waste of time. Even after everything Caden had told him about Lach Evening, Ryan still believed the coded message was a fool’s errand. Without a precise location—
He came to an abrupt stop, noticing Caden’s patrol car in its usual spot.
Odd.
His brother had left while the parade was winding down. He would have been on duty, so it would have been unusual for him to leave in his own car, but not out of the question. Especially since he planned to visit the TNT later that night. Ryan sprinted to the back of the building where the sight of Caden’s red Capri clamped a fist around his gut.
His mind kicked into overdrive. Maybe Caden had returned and Ryan hadn’t noticed.
No, he would have picked up on that.
Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he crushed a stab of alarm. Could be Caden had left, come back, then headed down the street to the hotel or the café. That made the most sense.
Spurred into motion, he jogged toward the road. Halfway there, he drew up short, spying a smattering of dark circles on the asphalt near Caden’s patrol car. He’d seen enough dried blood to recognize the stains. His sense of foreboding grew as he squatted and brushed his fingertips over the dime-sized splotches.
Ryan spun, a single hasty step bringing him smack up against Lach Evening. “Oof!” He expelled a grunt of air. “What the hell? Get out of my way. I’ve got to alert the station Caden is missing.” He ducked to the side, but Evening snagged his forearm, his grip surprisingly strong. Not a muscle of effort twitched on Evening’s face, but his grasp formed an unbreakable iron band.
“It would be better if we went alone.”
“Went?” Ryan spat the word.
“To find your brother.” Evening released him. “I noticed the same thing you did. Blood near Caden’s patrol car. It stands to reason Lyle has abducted him.”
It stands to reason…Ryan wanted to smack the lilting accent and overly proper words from his mouth. “All the more reason to sound the alarm.”
“All the more reason to proceed with as little commotion as possible.” Evening took a step backward, putting space between them. He wore black again, but his button-down shirt and tailored jacket had been replaced with a turtleneck and long leather coat. His slacks and shoes were equally dark in color. But for his white-blond hair, he would have blended into the shadows. “Mr. Mason is my problem. I can’t have others apprehending him. I’m sure your brother told you of my background and my true nature.”
“Yeah.” A sour admission. If the guy really was some kind of alien, then he’d want Lyle handled as quietly as possible. Buried in that ugly dilemma was an ethical question of whether or not Mason should be handed over to someone like Evening. At the moment, Ryan didn’t give a rat’s ass about the morality one way or another. “I need to find my brother. I’m going to do whatever’s best for him.”
Evening raised a single eyebrow. “Would it not be safe to say I am your best resource for accomplishing that goal?”
“Hell, Evening, you can’t even find Lyle.”
“We don’t need Mr. Mason. All we have to do is locate your brother.”
“No shit. And how are we going to do that?”
Evening overlooked the vulgarity. “Your brother shares a bond with a creature who can manage it for us.”
Ryan hesitated as the logic sank in. “The Mothman.”
“Precisely.”
Easier said than done. “And how do you plan on summoning a creature that has eluded hunters for decades?”
Evening smiled thinly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me.”
Caden dove to his knees as the bullet ricocheted off the wall. His teeth clacked together and he lunged forward, plowing into Lyle. Matched in height, Mason still outweighed him by a good twenty pounds. The heavy man fell backward, arms cartwheeling. He barely missed the fire as they struck the ground together. Grasping his wrist, Caden slammed his arm against the hard-packed soil to break his hold on the gun. Lyle grunted, but clung to the weapon.
“No, no no!” Stretching his free arm toward the fire, he fumbled to clasp one of the blazing sticks.