Chapter Four
As Crazy as a Sack of Loony Potatoes
“Oh, it’s you, JFK,” Greg said as she stepped into his office. He pulled his feet off his desk, straightening in his chair, and rested his elbows on the papers before him. “What do you have for me?”
Sucking in a breath, Janice shut the door behind her and took a seat across from her boss.
The chief of police had his sleeves rolled up, his chin resting in his hands.
His hair, mostly gray, fell across his face, almost covering his dark eyes.
Janice noticed a few white wisps in the air around his head.
Had he been smoking before she came in? She caught a whiff of the stuff. Definitely smoking.
“Nothing too impressive, I’m afraid,” she told him honestly. “Needless to say, I haven’t found the killer just yet.”
With a grunt, Greg leaned back in his chair, tearing his eyes off her for a moment.
She followed his gaze. The chief’s office was rather large, but it was packed with so many items, from photos to medals and extra furniture, that Janice couldn’t help but feel cramped.
A window had been cracked open to let the smoke out, thank goodness.
She could hear a few birds chirping, along with the chatter of some of the other officers at the precinct.
Someone—no doubt one of her colleagues—had taken it upon themselves to decorate the chief’s office for Halloween. A few bat ornaments hung from the ceiling, and sitting atop the cabinet to her left was a miniature skeleton. The cobweb in the corner was definitely real, though.
Her gaze landed on the silver plaque on the desk before her: CHIEF G. ANDERSON. When she looked up, the chief was staring at her again, an eyebrow raised expectantly as if to say, Well?
“Only three ranches have been hit so far,” she said. “The pattern is pretty much the same: attacks on livestock and farm produce, though some got hit harder than others. None of the farmers knows who’s responsible, and they all swear that their workers would never commit such atrocities.”
Greg’s mustache twitched slightly. “But this town’s got more than three ranches, right?”
She gave a nod. “Based on the current pattern, there’s a chance the two others will get hit before long. I already paid a visit to Mama Martha’s yesterday.”
“And?”
“And her ranch hadn’t been attacked. I tried to warn her, though.”
The chief of police gave a smirk. “Let me guess...she didn’t listen.”
“She said I was as crazy as a sack of loony potatoes if I thought anyone would even consider attacking her ranch. According to her, she’s got no enemies, runs a fair business, never bothers anyone.”
Greg breathed a sigh. “And what do you think, Detective?”
Janice bit her lip, glancing at one of the hanging bats. “I don’t know what to think. She’s got a point—there’s no motive for an attack—but there’s an established pattern. Her ranch could get hit next, and she thinks what happened with Old Man Benny and the others was just a case of bad karma.”
He looked like he was considering taking another drag from his cigarette. Where had he put it, anyway?
She and Greg had only gotten closer in recent years.
For most of the time she’d known him, he’d been chief of police, always her superior.
Rank aside, she respected Greg. Maybe it was the fact that he was at least ten years older than she was, but he was a calm man, almost fatherly.
It helped that he respected her as well.
It was why, whenever he called her “JFK,” she never shot him a dirty look as she did other officers.
“There could be a motive,” Greg pointed out. “Don’t assume there isn’t one. The culprit could be an angry customer who decided to take it out on all the farmers. Or some nutjob who’s trying to perform whatever Halloween ritual he found in a ten-dollar voodoo spellbook somewhere.”
“You’re right.” Janice ran her fingers through her hair for a moment.
“But there aren’t any traceable prints at the scenes.
Just holes in the ground. They don’t look like they were made by any human.
Our suspect’s intelligent, operating in a pattern, but there’s a chance we’re not dealing with a person here. And they just might attack again.”
“You think we need to station officers at these ranches?” Greg asked her. “Just in case there are any more attacks. You might even need help in case you become a target while on this case.”
She frowned at the plaque before her, pondering his question for a moment. “I don’t think so. I’ve got all the help I need.”
Greg lifted an eyebrow in question.
“I...I’m working with someone on this case,” she explained. “Theon Gardener. Figured I could use his help since he’s an animal rescuer—I’ve reason to believe these attacks might involve an animal.”
Or the supernatural. She deliberately left out that part.
If there was one thing she’d learned from Theon, it was that humans couldn’t really handle information about the supernatural.
They were better off not knowing it was real.
She was lucky the jaguar shifter had even thought to show her what he was.
Greg’s other brow shot up, his eyes widening slightly. “Theon Gardener? Didn’t you two date for a while?”
Janice felt her cheeks burn instantly. “We did. But it’s over now.”
“You don’t think working on a case with your ex might not be such a great idea? Can’t tell me there aren’t any unresolved feelings, JFK.”
It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it.
Heck, before she made the decision to approach Theon yesterday morning, she’d mulled over the possibilities.
There were so many ways things could go south between them, so many things that could go wrong.
It wasn’t even just the fact that they might argue or the possibility of resentment that troubled her so much.
There was also the fact that she was still very attracted to him.
Just yesterday, when she walked up to him, she’d barely been able to maintain her composure. Working alongside Theon was like starving with an all-you-can-eat buffet sitting right next to her. They’d only worked together for one day—no, a few hours—and she’d had difficulty taking her eyes off him.
“I’ll be alright,” she assured Greg, although from the way his lips twitched, she doubted she sounded the least bit sure of herself.
“Right now, I’m more focused on the case than anything else.
I want to make sure whatever’s ripping through these ranches is stopped before it spirals out of control. ”
She’d considered that possibility, too. What if it didn’t stop at the ranches?
What if the culprit moved to people’s homes, attacked stores across town?
What if it took its focus off vegetables and livestock and began going after the townsfolk?
She had a kid who needed protection. If nothing else, that was enough reason to risk whatever emotional turmoil resulted from working with Theon Gardener.
As long as they didn’t end up making out or ripping each other’s clothes off, there was no issue.
“I don’t doubt your dedication to this case, JFK,” Greg said, thankfully pulling her out of her reverie before she could dwell on the thought of caressing Theon’s solid torso or prying off his jeans.
He drummed his fingers absently on the desk.
“Your hunger for new cases these days is even concerning. If I didn’t think you might be the only one capable of handling this case, I’d have insisted you take that leave.
But don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.
Once you get this business settled, you’re taking a break. Got it?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a sudden ring. Greg reached for his phone, placing it to his ear. Janice sat patiently, watching as he nodded and grunted a response into the receiver, his face contorting into a deep frown.
When he hung up, he had a troubled expression on his face. Janice could’ve sworn she felt the office grow quieter, colder.
“What is it?” she wanted to know.
“Guess you aren’t as crazy as a sack of loony potatoes, after all.” His jaw tightened. “You might want to head back to Mama Martha’s.”
***
“No, not like that.” Theon gave a gentle shake of his head. “The logs need to be wider, not longer. Chop them like this.”
He lifted his ax over his head and swung with a grunt, bringing it down on the log of wood before him. It split into two long halves, both of which toppled to the ground at his feet. Hefting another large log onto the stump, he stepped back and motioned to Bryon.
A moment later, the log had been split in half. Bryon turned to face him.
“How’s that?” he wanted to know.
“Not bad.” Theon patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll make a fine woodchopper out of you yet.”
Both men chuckled at that, reaching for more logs to chop.
Around them, the rest of Paradise Woods seemed silent.
Most animals seemed to be hibernating or in hiding, no doubt due to the racket Theon and Bryon had made so far.
The pair of them stood in a small clearing near the edge of the woods, surrounded by the dozens of logs they’d gathered for a bonfire Theon was planning ahead of Halloween Night.
Theon wiped his forehead, ignoring the slight exhaustion that had settled over him. How long had they been working? Half an hour? It felt like longer, but with the party only three days away, he wasn’t about to take extended breaks. He needed to get this done.
He and Bryon continued working for a few minutes longer before either of them said anything. It was Bryon who spoke first.
“Say...” He straightened, leaning against his axe. “That was Janice Kennedy who showed up yesterday morning, wasn’t it? I didn’t get a clear glimpse of her, but I’m pretty sure it was her.”
Theon’s jaw clenched. “It was.”
“I knew it.” A pause. Then: “What did she want? Is that why you headed out later?”
He nodded, bringing his axe down on the next log; the axe-head went almost cleanly through, but lodged itself in the wood halfway down and wouldn’t budge.
“She wanted help on a case she’s working on,” he said. “I agreed to help her.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Bryon’s mouth hang open. He bent, gripping both halves of the log, and pulled as hard as he could. With a deafening crack, the log came apart, and the axe fell to the ground with a thud.
“You did...wh-what?” Bryon finally sputtered. “Why? She’s your ex, and according to you—”
“She dumped me, yes.” Theon bent to pick up the axe and faced the other man. “I asked myself the same question.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “I figure I might as well help her put a stop to whatever’s causing problems out there.”
Bryon said nothing, but merely blinked at him.
Theon scowled at the stump before him. Fine.
Maybe that wasn’t the only reason he was helping Janice.
Maybe it was also because there was some part of him that saw an opportunity to spend more time with her and refused to turn it down.
Sure, she was his ex, and she’d all but stomped on his heart when she broke up with him.
He should want to get as far away from her as possible.
He should’ve turned her down and sent her off his property without bothering to hear her out.
But he hadn’t.
He would give her his help as long as she needed it. And once this case was over, once the culprit had been stopped, they would go back to their separate lives. It sounded so simple. But Theon was starting to doubt it would be that easy.
So far, neither of them had spoken about the breakup. Was she thinking about it? Yesterday afternoon, just before she climbed into her car, she’d looked like she was about to say something, and he could’ve sworn it had to do with them.
Theon brushed the thought to the back of his mind.
There was no use worrying about a woman from his past. It wasn’t like there was a chance in the world that he and Janice were getting back together, was there?
There were other things that mattered, like the party in three days.
If nothing else, he could focus on that.
Thankfully, Bryon didn’t ask any more questions. They continued working, gathering the wood they’d chopped into a pile until Theon was satisfied with what they’d amassed. Together, the pair of them bundled up the logs and carried them out of the woods to Green Sanctuary.
They were nearing the barns when the roar of an engine carried into Theon’s ears. He and Bryon paused in their tracks. Sure enough, a car was making its way toward them, already slowing down by the second.
“It’s her,” Bryon said, his lips curving into a slight grin.
It was. Janice’s Toyota came to a stop just a few feet away. She didn’t bother to cut off the engine, but climbed out of the car, a coffee in her hand and a tense expression on her face as she approached Theon.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” she said, glancing at the logs he was carrying.
“What’s going on?” Theon wanted to know, although deep down he already had his suspicions.
“There’s been another attack. Mama Martha’s was hit last night.”