Chapter 48 Maeve
MAEVE
Blackwell Hollow was a small town nestled in the valley. The Blackwell Mountains — including the Blackwell Preserve — surrounded it like a silent guardian, making the town feel like a hidden jewel.
I kind of forgot it was there most of the time, although that might have been thanks to the fact that before June’s murder I was just a kid trying to figure out what to do with my life, and after June’s murder I’d been obsessed with Ethan Todd.
All of it seemed very far away as Poe pointed the Hummer down Hollow Road, the equivalent of our Main Street except it was only about half a mile long, and from the looks of it, there was no Southside equivalent.
In fact, the whole town looked like an ad for one of those small town Christmas movies that came out in droves starting in November, minus the Christmas lights since it was February.
“I actually don’t think I’ve ever been here before,” I said as we passed a series of quaint shops with green awnings: a used bookstore, a plant shop, a salon.
There was a coffee shop that stood right next to a tea shop and a bakery that made me think of the cookies Bram had brought to our picnic at this thinking spot.
“No?” Poe turned to look at me and I was struck all over again by his fierce beauty. Now that I’d met Whit, I saw how his features ran in the family, but there was something different in Poe’s dark blue eyes, something that told me I was safe.
And let’s be honest, his body was nothing to sneeze at either.
He was gorgeous even in jeans and a black T-shirt, his legs spread just enough that I had to force myself not to stare at the bulge between his thighs.
Just the sight of his big hands casually holding the wheel of the Hummer set my body humming.
I knew what those hands could do to me, knew the pleasure he could stoke in my cunt with his long fingers.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of the sudden onslaught of lust. “Or maybe my mom brought June and I here for tea when we were little? I can’t remember.”
“I avoid the place to be honest.”
“Why?”
“It’s fucking creepy,” he said.
I laughed and looked out the windshield as he pulled into one of the parking spots painted in diagonal lines along Hollow Road. “You’re crazy! It’s so cute, like a storybook town.”
“Exactly. It’s too perfect, which means it’s probably hiding something.”
I laughed. “Then why did you bring me here for lunch?”
He leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “Because if anyone deserves a storybook life, it’s you.”
I smiled. For the last year and a half my life had felt like a horror movie. A storybook sounded like a nice change of pace.
Poe took my hand and led me to a little cafe whose glass windows looked onto Hollow Road. One of the green awnings shielded the little restaurant from the sun that probably shone into it in summer, and a gold sign painted on the windows read Field & Fork.
Poe held the door and we stepped into a cute one-room establishment with a smattering of tables and a glass fronted cabinet filled with cakes and pies. Houseplants gave the place a homey feel, and soft music played from invisible speakers.
Only one of the tables was occupied — a pair of middle-aged ladies dressed in jeans and T-shirts, one of them wearing a flowy printed caftan over the top — so we claimed the table by the window.
I looked around, taking in the warm peach-colored walls and the surprisingly modern art on the walls. “It’s nice here.”
He nodded. “And creepy.”
I laughed. “Stop. It’s not creepy. Maybe you’ve just been living in the dark for too long. Maybe we both have.”
Even normal things started to look strange when you were forced to live so far outside of normal.
“Fair,” he said.
We looked up as a guying his thirties emerged from a swinging door behind the glass counter.
He smiled as he approached our table carrying two menus. Dressed in fashionable slim-cut slacks, a tailored button-down, and loafers, he looked less like a waiter and more like a fashionista from the city.
“Hello!” He flashed us a huge smile and I saw Poe shift in his seat, probably because he expected the nice man handing us menus to start stabbing us to death or something. “Welcome to Field & Fork. Is this your first time with us?”
I wasn’t sure who the “us” was since he seemed like the only employee in the place, but he was so cheerful I couldn’t begrudge him the greeting.
“Um, yep!” I tried to match his cheerfulness but it wasn’t easy. “First time.”
“Great! My name’s Jared and I’ll be taking care of you today. The staples are on the menu, but we also feature a rotating selection of seasonal specials. Mind if I fill you in?”
I smiled wider, determined not to be a killjoy like Poe, who looked like was preparing to jump in front of me with his knife if Jared suddenly turned murderous. “Not at all.”
The guy named Jared launched into a description of winter sandwiches and salads, plus a blue cheese burger that sounded heavenly. Poe ordered the burger, I chose one of the sandwiches, and Jared took our menus before retreating behind the counter.
“Easy,” I said to Poe. “He was just taking our order.”
“That’s what he wants you to think.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
The food was surprisingly delicious and we spent an easy hour eating and talking about nothing important. I love Blackwell Falls — grit and all — but it was kind of nice to have a change of scenery.
Still, it was weird to realize that Blackwell Falls felt more like my home than it ever had even though I’d lived there most of my life.
I saw it for what it really was now: not an average town filled with average people — although there were certainly average people — but a complicated mix of good and bad, shiny and gritty, all of it held together by the three men who’d held me together too.
Most of all I was surprised to realize that I liked it just the way it was.
I liked Cassie’s Cuppa and knowing I might run into my mom or Olivia there, and I also liked Marv’s and Screamin’ Syd’s, liked the way members of the Blades and the Barbarians had been guarding the loft, like I was one of them because I was with the Butchers and because of that they wouldn’t let anything happen to me again.
And yeah, Blackwell Hollow was super cute. Cuter than average even.
A storybook town, like Poe said.
But maybe I didn’t need storybooks anymore. Maybe, now that I knew monsters were real, I just needed to be in a place where other monsters — better monsters — fought them.
By the time we finished, a few more patrons had straggled into Fork & Field. We paid the bill, assured Jared everything was amazing (I was starting to think he was the only one in the whole place, which meant he’d also prepared our lunch), and headed back out to the Hummer.
Poe held my hand all the way home, and I settled into relaxed contentment. I loved the time I spent with the Butchers together, but I loved that I got time alone with each of them too, felt our connection grow stronger and deeper through it all.
By the time we pulled onto Main Street I was sleepy and already looking forward to changing into comfy clothes, maybe grabbing a nap, although the gentle stroke of Poe’s thumb on my hand definitely kept me open to other possibilities.
Then we approached the loft and I sat up straighter, blinking like that might clear the sight of the black Buick from my eyes.
“Who the fuck is that?” Poe muttered.
The Buick was parked on the street side of the parking lot gate, and a man and a woman were getting out of the car and approaching the keypad and intercom.
“They look like… police?” I’d had more than my share of interactions with law enforcement since June’s murder, and everything about the man and woman next to the Buick screamed police.
They turned toward Poe as he pulled up behind the Buick, then approached the driver’s side of the Hummer when Poe rolled down his window.
“Can I help you?” He sounded calm, friendly.
And most importantly, innocent.
“I’m Detective Rodriguez,” the woman said. “This is my partner Detective Grabowski. You Poe Killborn?”
I tried not to show my surprise. I hadn’t recognized Detective Rodriguez at first — I’d only seen images and videos of her online — but I recognized her now: an attractive brunette in her forties with strong features and a stiff spine, a woman who’d stood tall next to men, some of whom probably didn’t love having her on their team.
She was the detective in charge of the investigation into the missing girls around Blackwell Falls, the one who’d led press conferences about the deaths of Piers Cantwell and Arlo Kane.
And she knew Poe’s name.
Fear seeped like an oil slick in my stomach.
“That’s me,” Poe said. “What can I do for you?”
“We were hoping to talk to you and your roommates about an open investigation.” This time the man, Detective Grabowski, spoke, but it was still clear Detective Rodriguez was in charge.
“You have a warrant?” Poe’s tone was easy, casual.
It was just a question.
Detective Rodriguez slowly shook her head. “Just hoping for a little insight, heard you know a lot about the town.”
What did that mean? How much did she know about the work Bram, Poe, and Remy did in Blackwell Falls?
Poe nodded. “I don’t know if anyone else is home, but I can buzz you in.”
“Great.” The detectives got back into the Buick and Poe hit the button to open the gate.
We pulled into the lot behind them.
“Text Bram and Rem,” Poe said. “Let them know we’re coming.”
I pulled out my phone. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, his expression tight. “Fuck if I know.”