Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I n the two days since Amelia’s accident, Demetrius and Cody had talked around the subject off and on since the cafeteria. It was a delicate—and tiring—mental and verbal dance, as neither wanted to set off the other. Demetrius was acutely aware of Cody’s resistance to anything remotely paranormal or supernatural. And he wasn’t faulting Cody for feeling that way. With all they’d been through, Demetrius could absolutely understand Cody’s position.
Because they’d been such close friends before things had taken a romantic turn, Demetrius knew Cody was watching what he said. They were treating each other so carefully, it was very possible they might never have an actual discussion about Amelia seeing a woman who had died the week before walking down the road. And if they never discussed it in greater detail, they would never look into it. That may have been safer, but it also left the people they cared about open and vulnerable to whatever new evil had crept into their midst.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Demetrius looked up at Cody on the ladder he was bracing. Cody had turned on the ladder to face outward and now looked down at him. He removed a glove and pressed a knuckle into his eye. He wasn’t wearing his hard hat again and henna highlights in his wavy brown hair glowed in the afternoon sunlight.
“I’m thinking you’re going to bust your fontanelle since you’re not wearing your hard hat.”
Cody grinned as he pulled his glove back on. “Did you just infer I am a big baby?”
“Those are your words, not mine.”
“Uh huh.” He went back to work untangling a clump of half-deflated balloons from the wire supporting the town’s only stoplight. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what’s got you distracted.”
“Your amazing ass?”
“Besides that.”
“How good you look in your hard hat and jock?”
Cody gave him a long look, hands paused with balloon string wrapped around them. “Is that a glimpse into Demmy’s fantasy life?”
“What? No.” Demetrius’s face was practically on fire.
“Details noted.”
“If I told you my real fantasy was you wearing your hard hat when you’re supposed to, would that be noted as well?”
“Not likely.”
Demetrius sighed. “Okay, fine.” He was quiet a moment, then said, “I was thinking about Amelia’s accident.”
“Color me surprised.”
“Do you feel any inclination at all to look into it more thoroughly?”
“Nope.”
The two-way radio on Demetrius’s belt squawked and John the Bastard’s voice rumbled through the small speaker. “Singleton and Bower, pick up.”
“Get thee behind me, Satan,” Cody grumbled.
Demetrius chuckled as he unclipped the radio. “This is Demetrius. Sorry, Singleton.”
“Pete and Spiffy need your help with potholes out on 118.”
“Fuck, not those two again.” Cody pulled the final limp balloon free. “Shrieky Pete and Spiffy Johnson. The worst vaudeville act in history. I’m coming down.”
Demetrius moved to the side of the ladder and held it with one hand. Cody’s big, booted feet on the rungs sent vibrations up and down the aluminum ladder.
“Are they east or west of town?” Demetrius said into the radio.
“East,” John said. “Just past the old folks place.”
Cody glared at the radio in Demetrius’s hand. “That fucker knows we have relatives out there.”
Demetrius nodded and, making sure to keep his finger off the transmit button, said, “He does. But it’s important to remember he’s John the Bastard, not John the Fucker.”
“In my mind he just got promoted.”
Demetrius smiled and placed a hand on Cody’s chest. His body heat had warmed the heavy flannel he’d pulled on that morning. He tightened his fingers a few times, scratching Cody’s chest, and pressed the transmit button. “We’re just finishing up downtown. We’ll head out there next.”
“We need everything patched today. All the way up to the county line. Overtime approved to get it done tonight. Out.”
John the Bastard clicked off, and Demetrius met Cody’s angry gaze.
“You know those two have been taking their sweet time out there,” Cody said with a snarl.
“Spiffy probably had some lawns to cut and rake for his side business.”
“How does he still have a job with the city?”
“John likes him.”
“John likes everyone but us.”
Cody lowered the ladder then picked it up and tipped it sideways. Demetrius took the back end of it and they walked toward the big city truck parked down the street.
“We were kind of dumped on him by the mayor and Lucia,” Demetrius said.
“He’s lucky to have us.”
“Yeah. But still.”
Demetrius thought they were also lucky to have paying jobs in their small hometown, but he decided it might be best not to say it at that moment. He also thought it might be best not to tell Cody he’d taken the long way home after checking on Amelia the day before and driven through both of Parson’s Hollow’s cemeteries. He had been curious to see if he might spot anything unusual among the graves. All had seemed well. No graves appeared disturbed, and while he’d been relieved, he’d also been even more intrigued.
After a short drive out east on 118, they saw another city dump truck moving slowly along the gravel shoulder of the two lane blacktop. Spiffy Johnson was behind the wheel, and Shrieky Pete slouched in the passenger seat. Both men looked tired, hungover most likely. Or in Spiffy’s case, hungover and overworked as he tried to maintain two full time jobs.
Cody pulled up behind them and parked on the shoulder. Demetrius climbed down and followed Cody toward the other truck. It didn’t stop moving, just kept rolling along at a crawl, so they jogged a bit to come up alongside the cab and Cody waved his arms.
“Spiff!” Cody shouted even though Spiffy had his window down and arm hanging out.
Spiffy looked over and smiled but didn’t stop the truck. “Hey, guys. Glad you could make it.”
Demetrius thought he heard Shrieky Pete say something like “Finally,” from the other side of the cab.
“Think you could stop the truck for a minute?” Cody said.
“Oh, sure.” Spiffy brought the truck to a stop with a squeal of brakes.
“What the fuck?” Cody whispered, glancing back at Demetrius.
“That was pretty weird.”
Spiffy leaned out of the window and smiled down at them. “Hey, guys.”
“Yeah, you said that,” Cody said. “John the…” He stopped himself just in time, and Demetrius grinned. Cody cleared his throat and tried again. “John radioed and told us to come out here and help you guys finish pothole patching, no matter how long it took.”
“Yeah? Good. You can take over,” Shrieky Pete said from his slouched position. “Fucking asphalt burns and stinks like brimstone.”
“So, I don’t think we’re supposed to, you know, take over,” Demetrius said. “We’re supposed to work as a team to get it done.”
“Oh, cool. Yeah, that would be cool. Do you wanna drive or something?” Spiffy said.
Cody stared up at Spiffy in silence, then said in a very blunt, direct tone, “Are you guys stoned?”
“What?” Spiffy pulled his head back, and in the sunlight hitting his face, Demetrius could see his pupils were much wider than they should have been.
Good God.
“No, we’re not stoned,” Shrieky Pete shouted from the other side of the truck. “We’re worn down from working these shit ass jobs for so long.”
“Okay, great. Tell you what we’re going to do.” Cody stepped closer to the truck and Spiffy smiled down at him. “Demmy and I will shovel half of the asphalt from your truck into ours. After that, we’ll drive ahead to the end of the county line and turn around and head back in this direction. You guys continue the direction you’re already heading, and we’ll meet in the middle. It shouldn’t take us very long, it’s only about five miles.”
Five miles sounded pretty long to Demetrius, but he wasn’t going to say anything.
“Yeah, okay. Sure. What should I do?” Spiffy said.
“Just sit tight and let me turn our truck around and back it up. Okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good. Okay.”
Cody started back toward their truck and Demetrius followed.
“That was a very diplomatic solution,” Demetrius said.
“Fucking stoners. I knew they were out here getting high all the time,” Cody said with a snarl. “I should report them.”
“But then who would slowly drive city trucks all around town?”
Cody snorted. “Right.”
It didn’t take as long as Demetrius had anticipated for them to get their truck backed up close to the other one. Spiffy and Pete actually stepped out and helped shovel a good portion of the asphalt between the trucks. Pete had been right about the heat and smell of the stuff. Demetrius had a feeling it would take a couple of showers to get the smell out of his hair and off his skin. He might have to just burn his outfit and start from scratch.
When they’d finished, Cody turned the truck around again and Spiffy shook Demetrius’s hand.
“Thanks a lot for the help, Demetrius.”
“You’re welcome. We’re glad to help. You guys keep working in the direction you’re heading and we’ll meet you in the middle.”
Or right back there at the same spot, because they wouldn’t do another lick of work.
Cody bitched about them and their shitty jobs as he drove along the heavily pitted and potholed road. At the county line sign, he managed a three point turn and headed back in the other direction.
“You’re getting good at turning this truck around.”
That earned Demetrius a long, cool look. He turned away to hide his smile.
At the first grouping of potholes, Cody eased to a stop on the shoulder. Demetrius was glad to see his expression wasn’t quite as pinched and scrunched up as before.
“You want to shovel first or me?”
“I’ll do it. You’re already behind the wheel, and the seat is adjusted for your incredibly long legs.”
“You say it like that’s a bad thing.”
“Nope, not at all. I like your long legs.” Demetrius pushed the door open and said over his shoulder, “Especially when they’re wrapped around my hips as I pound you into the mattress.”
He smiled as he heard Cody say, “Jesus Christ,” before he shut the door.
It was slow going, but they made progress. They switched places a few times, and as Demetrius slowly rolled the truck along the road, he watched the last of the daylight leave the sky. Stars appeared, and off in the woods he heard a nightbird sing. He checked the sky for bats, but all was clear. Over the low rumble of the truck engine and the crunch of gravel under the big tires, he could hear Cody scraping up patching compound and cursing as he filled the potholes and patted the stuff down.
They finally came upon the other truck, parked on the opposite side of the road. The headlights threw out an apron of light, and the yellow flashing bar on top of the cab strobed against the trees to either side. Shadows shifted and danced between the trunks and high up in the branches, and Demetrius fought back a creeping sense of dread.
They were about twenty-five yards from Spiffy and Pete’s truck when a loud clang from the back of their vehicle made him jump and brought his attention back to the road. Moments later, Cody yanked open the passenger door and climbed up into the cab, slumping in the seat.
“We’re out of asphalt,” he grumbled.
“Guess that’s it then.”
Cody sat up and glared out the windshield. “Are they fucking parked?”
“Yeah. Been that way for a while.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Cody looked at Demetrius, his expression shifting from incredulous to angry and back again. He jerked a thumb in the direction they had come. “We’ve done at least four miles of patching. They did maybe one mile, and then parked to spark another blunt?”
“We don’t know that they, um, sparked another blunt.”
“Oh, yeah? Let’s find out.”
Cody shoved the door open and jumped down. Demetrius watched him stomp up the shoulder and let the truck idle along after. This was either going to be an epic Cody outburst or more bluster than substance. Demetrius’s gut was telling him epic Cody, which he hoped didn’t lead to both of them getting fired.
As he came even with Spiffy and Pete’s truck, Cody turned toward it and stepped into the road. The yellow flashing lights from both trucks alternated covering his front and back. It was almost mesmerizing to look at. But when Cody stopped in his tracks on the center yellow line to stare at the other truck, Demetrius blinked a few times and braked to a halt. He put the truck in park and leaned out the window.
“Everything all right?”
Cody looked at him, eyes wide. “You’d better come out here.”
Oh, fuck.
Demetrius climbed down from the cab and looked up and down the long, empty stretch of road before walking up beside Cody.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s on the door of their truck?”
Something dark and sinister was smeared across the door panel, practically obscuring the city logo. Whatever it was had run in long drips down the door and gathered in small puddles on the step beneath.
“Is that…?” Demetrius couldn’t make himself finish.
“Blood? Looks like it.”
Demetrius saw the fear and exhaustion and anger bundled together in Cody’s expression, and his heart broke a little for his husband.
“Let’s call Lucia,” Demetrius said.
“We have to look first,” Cody said, then, maybe with a touch of meanness in his tone, added, “I know you want to look.”
“We don’t have to.”
“Yeah, we do. Come on. Just don’t touch anything, for God’s sake. I don’t want to spend the night in jail. Again.”
Demetrius’s stomach had compressed to what felt like the size of a pea as he followed Cody the rest of the way across the road and up to the truck.
“Hey, Spiffy,” Cody called. “Pete?”
There was no answer. The only sounds were the rumbling of the truck engines and the weird click of the light bar rotation.
“I’ll check the other side.”
Cody grabbed his arm as he turned toward the front of the truck. “We stay together. Right the fuck beside each other. Okay? I don’t want us to leave each other’s sight.”
“Yeah, good idea. Okay.”
“I don’t want to touch the handles or anything, but we need to look in the window.” Cody waved a hand at his backside. “Support my ass as I get up on the step.”
“How about you support my ass since I’m about twenty pounds lighter—you know, because of your height and all your muscles and stuff.”
“And stuff?”
Demetrius shrugged slightly. “Your cock is bigger, too.”
That earned him a scoff. “Fine. But lean back against my hands so your face isn’t right there in the window and vulnerable.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Demetrius’s stomach trembled, a real feat considering it had shrunk so much. He licked his dry lips and looked up at the clear sky, then around at the shadows in and between the trees. Nothing moved. Cody steadied him with a hand on his elbow, his fingers strong and familiar.
“You let me know if you need to get down fast.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
“Okay, step up.”
Demetrius placed his foot on the step, careful to avoid the puddle. With Cody supporting his arm and butt—a bit stimulating, even given the circumstances—he rose up and peered in the window.
The dashboard lights and throwback from the light bar illuminated the blood pooled in the imprint of countless asses that had sat in the driver’s seat over the years. The thick, coppery smell of it hit him, and he turned his face away to draw in a breath of fresher air.
“What is it?” Cody asked.
“Blood in the driver’s seat. A lot of it.”
“Shit. Any sign of Pete?”
Demetrius forced his gaze away from the gory driver’s seat and looked at the empty passenger side of the cab. “No. His seat is empty.”
A small, very quiet sound made him tense. Cody must have felt it in his muscles because he started to pull him back down, saying, “That’s it, get down. We’re calling Lucia.”
“Wait.”
Demetrius was surprised when Cody actually listened and stopped trying to get him down on the road again. He leaned a little closer to the door, ignoring Cody’s low growl as he said his name in that familiar warning tone. Instead, Demetrius leaned in just a bit more and turned his head slightly, listening hard.
There it was. A soft voice, almost breathless, saying something familiar. He shifted a bit to the right, toward the back of the truck, and in the reflected throw of the yellow lights, saw someone tucked tight into the darkness of the passenger seat footwell.
It was Shrieky Pete. His knees were pulled up tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his shins. He stared wide-eyed at Demetrius with no sign of recognition. His mouth barely moved, but now that Demetrius could see him, he was able to recognize Pete repeatedly whispered the Lord’s Prayer.