"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.
25
Tempest
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." 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."
"Did I say I was talking dirty to truckers?" she asked. "They talk dirty to me. I like to listen. Don't be lecturing me on my hobbies, either. I'm an old woman."
"An old woman, my ass," I said. "You're worse than someone a third of your age."
She laughed. "Growing old is freeing, dear," she said. "As it should be."
"Okay, Nana." I tried to get her back on track, thinking I was surely going to regret my next question, but unable to keep myself from asking. "What did you hear on the police scanner?"
"Oh yes. The scanner. Well, that's the thing. The sheriff-I don't think you know him, Jed Easton -" She didn't wait for my response. "He's a real piece of work. As dirty as a pig in shit, always has been. I never liked him, even when he was a kid. Jed called in an incident at the Saint house."
"Okay. So what?" I asked. My voice was nonchalant, but my heart was caught in my throat. Silas wasn't even here, I told myself. He was in Vegas.
"So," she said. "I thought you knew the Saint brothers, Silas in particular. So I thought you might be interested. There was apparently some kind of altercation, and Jed Easton arrested one of them. It was a few hours ago."
"Did they say which one?" I asked.
"Of course not. Just 'the suspect' this, and 'the suspect' that," she said. "But I thought, it possibly being someone you know, you might be interested in going down to the jailhouse and offering your assistance."
"I knew them a long time ago," I lied. It had been days since I knew Silas.
In the most biblical of ways.
Heat rose to my cheeks at the thought of Silas' breath on my neck, his hands pinning my wrists above my head. My heart beat rapidly.