“Put the gauge away, Percy,” Melia told him. “Let me see what damage you’ve done.”
“My hand hurts like hell, doc. How much more damage needs to be done? AJ can’t help me out until his regular shift’s done. This here Chevy is the mayor’s baby. I said I’d have it ready for him tomorrow morning. He’s got a meeting up in Jacksonville.”
“He’s also got three cars,” Melia reminded him. “Now sit down, and let me look at your hand.”
While Percy fretted about the blood, his wife’s reaction, and the mayor’s vintage vehicle, Johnny walked around the service bay. It was a typical auto repair shop with two hoists, air pump, a lot of grease, and overflowing workbenches.
“Bones are crushed, aren’t they?” Percy demanded. His face beneath several streaks of oil looked pale.
Melia glanced up, shook her head. “You’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken. Something on the hood cut the side of your hand. You don’t even need stitches.”
“Feels like I do,” Percy grumbled. “I’m tired of hurting. Angie and me, we’ve been snapping at each other again. Not all the time, but enough. She says I’m behaving like a pig these days.”
“Why?” Melia led him to the sink to clean him up.
“I don’t know. Damn dirt.” He spit on the floor near the mayor’s car and made Johnny grin. “She knew what she was marrying long before we ever said ‘I do.’ Can’t stay clean when you work in a place like this every day… Ow! Damn! That water hurts like a bitch, doc.” He whooshed out a breath. “Make it quick, okay?”
From the open bay door, Johnny checked out the town. Everything appeared calm and peaceful—except for the distant hum of power tools and the occasional horn. Heat rose in waves from the pavement. Flags and leaves blew gently in the hot afternoon breeze.
Melia worked quickly and managed to talk Percy down as she did. Typical Mel. She knew just how to handle people.
AJ and another man strolled across the street and into the shop. Both were bare chested and smelled like bears.
“Got a backlog of engine repairs,” AJ said. “Rupert here volunteered to help. He joined the site crew three days ago. Already hammered his thumb twice. Says he’s better at pulling wrenches than nailing two-by-sixes together. Me, I just think he wants to get out of the sun. So what’s up?”
Johnny made a head motion at Percy. “Your new boss hurt his hand again.”
Rupert, a redhead with sun-blistered skin caught sight of Melia and brightened instantly. “Who’s she?”
“Town doctor,” AJ replied.
Mine once, Johnny thought, but said nothing.
“Are you a cop?” Rupert asked in suspicion.
Under the circumstances, Johnny didn’t feel the need to be modest. “Oh, I’m a lot more than that, these days. I’m a federal marshal. Before that, I was in the military. I spent some time in Iraq.”
AJ scratched his neck. “My granddad went to Vietnam. He said it was as close to hell as he ever wants to come.”
“Got cars to fix,” Percy called from the far side of the shop. “AJ, I need you to— Son of a bitch!” This as a bullet zinged off the rear bumper of the mayor’s prize car. “Was that a gunshot?”
The mechanic hit the ground, although the bullet hadn’t been anywhere near him. Melia went to her knees next to him. “Johnny?”
He already had his gun out. Near the bay door, AJ and his friend were flat on their bellies. While his friend lay immobile, AJ used his feet to scoot around.
Another bullet whizzed by. “Stay down,” Johnny shouted at the two men. He crouched next to the Malibu and glanced at the twin grooves on the metal bumper.
Okay, so Mel was way across the shop, nowhere near the line of fire. Which was coming from where?
He scanned the shops across the street, saw a flash of movement on the roof of the hardware store.
A third shot rang out. It missed the car and blasted right through the rear window.
“Everyone stay put,” he said, and ignoring Melia’s shout for him to stop, he took off through the big door.
The hardware store bordered an alley. A rusty fire escape ladder hung down. Stowing his gun, Johnny jumped, caught the bottom rung, and hauled it down another foot. Then he swung up and climbed.
Once on the roof, he had a clear view of the surrounding streets. There was movement, but nothing he’d call rushed.
He made a quick tour of the perimeter. The building was a standalone. A second fire escape dropped into a narrow lane filled with trash cans. The ladder had been lowered almost to the ground.
Although he imagined the shooter was long gone, he descended the ladder and landed in a wary crouch. A dark corner stood directly in front of him. Using the trash cans for cover, he closed the gap between himself and the corner.
A tiny sound from a shadowed niche between two sections of the hardware store had him pausing. He zeroed in on the darkest spot and finally spotted another movement. He also noticed the toes of a large foot sticking out into the lane. Which was weird, but what the hell wasn’t weird there?
Standing, he aimed his Glock. “You don’t want to try anything,” he said to the person in the alcove. “I can see you well enough to do some serious damage if I squeeze this trigger.”
The foot disappeared. He heard a scuffing sound. A moment later, the person he was aiming at got clumsily to his feet.
Cas Travers’s eyes bore into his as he stepped into the light. He raised his hands and whispered, “Pa told me I can’t shoot weasels anymore.” A slow smile appeared. “I listen to my pa. I’ve been shooting rats instead.” And reaching over to the trash can on his right, he picked up a large black pistol.
Chapter Thirteen
The fact that it was a large black water pistol didn’t absolve Cas of guilt in Johnny’s opinion. But Melia took a kinder view of the situation.
“He’s a troubled young man,” she reminded him. “I told you he has autism and he’s ADHD. Ethan is determined to keep his meds as low as possible, and this is the result. Stuff happens.”
“Are we sure Cas isn’t crafty enough to have ditched the real gun and kept the water pistol for show?”
“No, we’re not,” she admitted. “But you searched the area, and my instincts say he’s not homicidal.”
Tugging his baseball cap lower, Johnny leaned back in one of her kitchen chairs while she frosted the banana cake Gert had baked earlier. “If it’s all the same to you, babe, I’m going to do some poking around.”
“Meaning what? You’re going to swipe every gun Ethan owns and compare all the bullets to the ones in Percy’s garage?”
Johnny smiled. “Nothing that drastic. Are you done with that spoon?”
She slid him a wry look. “You haven’t been ten years old for a long time, Johnny.” But when he stood and started toward her, she shoved the spoon at him. “Okay, fine. Here. Enjoy.”
“I plan to.” Before she could stop him, he swung her away from the counter and into the middle of the floor. The late afternoon light was fading from the sky, and the smell of the swamp was strong. It was a combination of flowers, heavy spice, and slow-running water.
It could have been thunder that rolled through the sky to the west, or maybe it was her heart pounding like a bass drum in her chest. Melia braced her hands on Johnny’s upper arms, mostly, she realized, to keep her balance.
“This isn’t a good time,” she told him.
He grinned, went back to the counter, and gave the volume control on her radio a quick punch to ramp up the music. “Feels pretty good to me.”
The song was “Yesterday,” and no one did it better than the Beatles. Damn him for knowing that, for recognizing the music and taking advantage of the moment.
“Opportunist.” She shivered lightly when his hands slid down to grip her hips. “Don’t you dare,” she warned him, but of course he ignored her and drew her lower body against his.
It hadn’t really surprised her when they’d met to discover he had moves. He’d seduced her with a slow dance, and then another, and another…