Chapter 5 #2
“Yeah, okay, I think we need to establish some house rules,” Sawyer said. “No getting on the kitchen counter or the table.”
The cat didn’t give one single fuck, apparently.
Sawyer would’ve been pissed if he didn’t think the company would be good for him.
Sure, he loved being by himself, preferred his own company even, but having a cat around—an independent creature which also preferred its own company—probably wasn’t a bad thing.
Especially if Sawyer expected to be here for the full five years.
Which he did.
Even with the weirdness, and the group of eight mysterious men who called themselves a consortium, and the weird dream about the octopus eyes, and with a certain Ciaran Brenner he couldn’t stop thinking about. Or his divine body, or his copper-coloured eyes...
Nope, no, no. Don’t even go there, Sawyer told himself.
Not going there.
Now mad at himself, he showered and got dressed for work, opened the police station, and rebooted up his slow computer.
It was a cold day outside, drizzling rain and a biting wind, and it wasn’t even winter yet.
Sawyer was used to Hobart weather, so he was no stranger to cold and windy, but this felt different.
Like the cold and low clouds were as much a part of this town as the pier and the jetty.
He was grateful for his warm office and the fact that his coffee machine was just through the door. He actually liked that his small apartment was part of the station. Everything was close and convenient. Cosy.
He was cosy here.
It was now a respectable time to call Ricky Carpenter’s cousin, so he did exactly that. Unsurprisingly, it went to voicemail, and he left a message.
“Hello, Ginny. My name is Detective Sergeant Douglas Sawyer. I’m hoping you can help me. I need to get in touch with Ricky Carpenter. If you could please give me a call back...”
He didn’t expect her to, but he was still disappointed when, an hour later, she hadn’t.
So he sent her a text message, repeating his earlier request.
He didn’t expect her to reply, but he could at least see whether or not she’d read the text.
Wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt—maybe she was at work—he decided a stroll up to the café and store was in order.
It also didn’t hurt to go past Ciaran’s antiques store either. See if he was in.
He wasn’t.
The Closed sign was on the door, and the store was dark.
He was disappointed for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.
The café was warm, but there was no one behind the counter, so he walked through to the convenience store.
Otis was behind that counter with another guy Sawyer hadn’t seen before. He was dainty, if that was a word he could use to describe a man. He had golden-blond hair, pale hazel eyes, and the faintest freckles on his cheeks and nose that looked almost like glitter.
Well, okay. Dainty and pretty.
“Detective Sergeant Sawyer,” Otis said. His grin was sly this morning.
Sawyer kind of got the feeling Otis had called him by name for the other guy’s benefit so he’d know who Sawyer was. It clearly worked, because the pretty, dainty man turned and eyeballed him from head to foot and back up again, an amused smirk on his pretty, dainty face.
What the hell?
“Morning,” Sawyer said to them both.
“Morning,” the other guy said, coming over, his voice matching his looks.
Otis snorted quietly. “Sawyer, this is Aurin. Aurin, this is the town’s new police officer.”
Otis gave Aurin a look that silently said, “The one we were talking about.” Sawyer pretended not to care. He was the new guy in town, after all.
Aurin chuckled quietly, taking in the finer details of Sawyer’s face. “How fascinating.”
Uhhh, again, what the hell?
“Pardon?”
His smile was saccharine. “How nice to meet you. Oh, I do hope you like it here.”
That was amusing, too, apparently.
Sawyer shook it off. They were bound to be talking about him. Best to get it out of the way early, he reckoned.
“So, uh…” Sawyer nodded to the empty café counter. “Is there coffee today?”
“Oh yes,” Aurin said. “Dylan’s away, but I can help you with that.” He stepped out from behind the counter, his gait more a glide than a walk. “Follow me.”
Sawyer ordered his coffee, and Aurin began making it. “So,” he hedged, a small smile on his pretty lips. “New to town. Move here solo? Someone joining you once you’re settled? A wife? Girlfriend?” Then he shrugged. “Boyfriend?”
Wait.... Was he asking if Sawyer was on the market?
“Uh, solo,” Sawyer said. He was going to add that he’d been solo for some time but stopped himself.
Aurin’s smile was immediate. “Well, that is good news.”
Sawyer swore he heard Otis snort from across the store.
Yeah, there was definitely something going on.... “Why is that good news?”
“I mean, it’s less complicated that way,” Aurin said, then began to froth the milk so the noise put an end to any hope of conversation.
Aurin was the sultry, impish type who did more than ping on Sawyer’s gay radar. He was very twinkish, a bit fem, and while that sure was cute, he was not Sawyer’s type at all.
He didn’t have the heart to tell Aurin that all the flirting wouldn’t do him any good. Sawyer wasn’t interested. Even if he was interested, which he was not, Sawyer liked his partners on the more masculine side.
More like Ciaran...
When Aurin handed over the coffee, Sawyer paid and aimed for a casual tone. “So, uh, the antiques store,” he began.
Aurin’s gaze shot to his, his smirk back in place.
“Not open today, I see. I was wondering just how busy an antiques store would be in a town like this.”
Aurin’s honey-coloured eyes danced with humour. “Interested in antiques? Or the store owner?”
Sawyer balked. “What? No, no, I was curious about how a store like that stays open when there’s no passing customers.”
“Ciaran and Fray are out diving today. That’s what Ciaran does. Shipwreck treasure hunter.”
Oh.
Oh, that was actually kinda cool.
“His clients are mostly online. Auction houses, museums,” he added.
And that made total sense.
Sawyer felt foolish for asking.
“Awesome,” Sawyer said. “I’ll be sure to check it out when he gets back.”
“He’ll be gone a day or two,” Aurin said. “But he’ll be very interested to know you were asking about him.”
Uhhhh...
“Yeah, that’s not what I...”
Otis cleared his throat from across the store, and Aurin seemed to take the hint to shut up.
Sawyer gave him a nod. “Thanks for the coffee.”
He grabbed a few things from the store, including some small tins of tuna for his new furry friend, and once he was back at the station, he decided to do some homework on Ciaran’s antiques store and shipwreck diving.
He had all the current documentation and licenses, was registered with the appropriate industries, and, from what Sawyer could see, was totally legit.
Sawyer wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, though. Yet, he had no clue why he didn’t. Carpenter had suggested it was a possible front for something, and maybe that was clouding his judgement.
What he did find out was that Ciaran Brenner was twenty-nine years old and had been born in Launceston Hospital.
Only child, parents deceased, left school as soon as he could.
Had a license to drive a boat but not a car, which might explain why he’d never had so much as a parking ticket or speeding fine.
When Sawyer realised he liked the fact Ciaran was only three years younger than him, he growled at himself for being stupid and made himself stop thinking about him.
Focusing on work instead, he tried calling Ginny McIntyre again, fully expecting it to go to voicemail, but this time she answered.
“Look,” she said instead of hello. “I don’t know how you found me, not without abusing your policing boundaries, anyhow, but I won’t tell you where he is.”
Sawyer scowled. “Ms McIntyre,” he tried.
“He’s fine, and he’s safe,” she said. “That’s all you need to know. He’s not missing, he’s not a danger to himself or to anyone else. He’s living his best life as far away from that town and as far away from that ocean as possible.”
Hmm. Weird.
“That’s what I’m calling about,” Sawyer said. “I’ve taken his post in Tenebrae Cove. I found the note he hid for me.”
The phone jostled as if she’d changed hands, and then her voice became a whisper. “You should get out while you still can. That town messed him up. Those... people. If that’s what you can even call them.”
If that was what he could call them? What else would he call them?
“They messed him up,” she went on. “Fucked with his head. He’s not crazy, and he’s not into conspiracy shit. But what he told me... the things he saw. I trust my cousin, just so you know. He’s never told a lie in his life, so when he said...”
“When he said what?” Sawyer prompted.
“There are things in that town, Detective. Things that aren’t right. If you value your sanity, you’ll leave.”
Sawyer ran a hand over his face and sighed. Maybe Ricky had succumbed to isolation madness. Maybe his cousin Ginny wasn’t far behind him. But either way, she wasn’t giving up Ricky’s contact details.
Just then, the black cat that had declared itself owner of the station sauntered over to the jail cell, slipped through the bars, and jumped up onto the bed.
“Get off that,” he hissed, getting up. “Sorry, Ginny. I’ll let you go. The damn cat—”
She gasped. “A black cat?”
He stopped walking. “Yes. Why?”
She laughed, a humourless sound. “My cousin spoke of it. He said...”
“He said what?”
She let out an exasperated sound. “I don’t want you to think he’d lost his mind. It does sound kinda crazy. But he said that cat was bad...”
“Bad?” Sawyer was a bit confused. “He jumps up on the table, and he’s sleeping on the cot in the jail cell right now, but...”
“Not bad like that, Jesus Christ.”
“Then bad like what?”
“Bad energy. He said it... I dunno. He said its name suited it, put it that way. That cat is not what it seems. Nothing in that town is.”
Its name suited it?
“Its name?”
“Yeah. Salem. Or something. I dunno. He didn’t like to talk about it.”
The cat’s name was Salem? The Salem from the list where Ricky also said to be careful of what he did and said in front of it?
Salem was the freaking cat?
Ginny was right. Sawyer was starting to think Ricky had lost his mind.
But then Salem put his head up, his yellow eyes met Sawyer’s, and he stared at Sawyer as if he knew they were talking about him.
Nope.
No, not doing that.
He was not going there or putting these crazy notions in his mind. Sawyer couldn’t believe he’d even entertained the thought....
“I’ve said too much already,” Ginny said. “Don’t call me again. And leave Ricky alone. He’s been through enough, and the police department didn’t do a damn thing to help him. I’m blocking your number now, and if you try to contact me or Ricky again, I’ll report you for harassment.”
The line went dead.
Sawyer stood there for a moment, unsure what to make of any part of that conversation.
Salem was still staring at him, which was beginning to feel weird.
“The fuck are you looking at?” Sawyer asked him.
And he’d be damned if Salem didn’t smile at him before he put his head back down and closed his eyes.