Chapter 6
After he and Roan cataloged the evidence to be sent to the lab in Meadow Glen, Santiago uploaded the photos from old Mrs. Willoby’s house into his computer.
Until he received a definitive cause of death, the case would continue to be investigated as a crime despite Edgar’s objections.
Edgar had returned “for a few important items,” while they’d been gathering evidence.
He didn’t like having to stay on the other side of the yellow tape.
He especially didn’t like that the house wouldn’t likely be released for another twenty-four hours.
“I don’t care what y’all say,” Derry said, looking over Santigo’s shoulder at the images. “That right there looks like something evil did it.” He pointed to the picture of the broken vase and the decomposing chicken hearts.
“Space,” Santi grumbled.
“Sorry, Sheriff,” Derry said, backing away.
Roan sat on the other side of Santiago’s desk, waiting for shift change. “Not something, someone.” She already told them about their run in with St. James—skipping the screaming and falling in the mud part.
Santiago snorted.
Roan’s actions in and outside of Ms. Willoby’s house confirmed she held the same otherworldly beliefs as Derry, but her dislike of St. James made him a safer—and more tangible—suspect.
Roan backed her chair up until she was right outside Santiago’s office.
“The way you always try to find the worst in that man makes me wonder if your dislike is coming from someplace a little more…personal.”
Santiago looked over at Roan with a questioning brow.
“If y’all gossips could be considerate enough to let a man rest, it be greatly appreciated,” Clyde shouted from his cell.
“Why’s he still here?”
“Unlike his rich friend, Andy Archer, he’s too broke to afford bail,” Derry said, returning to his desk to pack his things.
“As a matter of fact,” Clyde snapped when Santiago walked into the common area. “Do I need big tits and ass to get royal treatment like that Black lady? Hell,” he mumbled. “Maybe I got grounds for a discrimination case.”
“You ain’t even got grounds to pitch a tent,” Derry snapped. “You best be glad we gave you time to sleep off your hangover. The bus for Carson City will be here in the morning.”
“Wait…Sheriff, you’re sending me to Carson City Jail. With criminals?”
“You brandished a weapon, you idiot. That comes with consequences,” Santiago said.
“The gun wasn’t even loaded!” Clyde said, gripping the cell bars. “It was broken when I found it!”
“You were shit-faced and you raised a gun at me; you’re lucky you’re still alive.”
Clyde sat down heavily on his cot. “I was drunk, wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Because you’re always trying to impress Andy Archer, have been since we were kids,” Derry said.
“I’ll…I’ll go to them AA meetings at the community center,” Clyde promised fearfully. “My momma and sister won’t make it here without me, and you know that’s the truth.”
It was the truth. When he wasn’t drunk off his ass, Clyde was the only one who helped his sister take care of their mother; helped with his sister’s three kids when she had to work long shifts at the nursing home two towns over.
“Thirty days, thirty meetings. Get’em signed off by Franklin, who runs the group, and bring them to me every day,” Santiago said.
“Oh, and I hear Saige over at The Mystical Market needs some help. I’ll call her, and if she’s willing to have you, you’ll volunteer there twenty hours a week starting tomorrow.
I get a whiff about you drinking, I’ll file those charges, and you will do hard time. ”
“Yes, Sheriff, I promise I’ll get my shit together. I promise.”
Santi nodded to Derry. “Drop him at his sister’s on your way home. Let her know I’ve got him on a special work-release program, see if that gets him a steady place to sleep again. If not, take him to the men’s shelter.”
Derry nodded and unlocked the cell.
“And Clyde, you stay away from Andy,” Derry said. “Anybody who likes you more drunk than sober ain’t your friend. The fact that he ain’t even come to visit or bail you out should prove that.”
When the night watch came on shift, they were briefed, then Santiago went back to looking through photos, comparing the ones he’d taken when he’d first arrived on the scene with those after they found the broken jar of chicken hearts.
“Hey Stillwater, you really pop that woman on the ass like everyone’s talkin’ about?” Deputy Loyd Peters called out as he walked into the station. Late again. Peters dropped his things on his desk before walking over and leaning against the opening to Santiago’s office.
Santiago gritted his teeth, then looked up, turning a dead-eyed gaze upon the older man.
Loyd was old guard, thought he was a shoo-in for the role of sheriff but the old mayor, Anderson’s father, had other ideas.
“If they said it, then it’s got to be true,” Santiago said.
“But since you’re out there keepin’ your ear to the ground on your off day and such, maybe you’ve heard something that will help you close out those two missing person cases on your desk for the last week and a half.
I got complaints from both the Litten and the Dagney families saying that you weren’t taking their concerns seriously enough. ”
“Well, will you look at the time,” Ms. Audrey said, rising from her desk. “I’m gonna swing by and see if Ms. Green, aka that woman, is faring well this evening. Y’all be safe out there tonight.”
“What the hell is going on with this cell?” Peters called out as he peered inside.
“Audrey’s been on a beautification campaign apparently,” Roan said, also gathering her things.
“Oh hush you,” Ms. Andrey scolded. She stopped beside Santiago and mouthed patience.
Everyone was aware he had little patience for people who were incompetent yet found the time to be cavalier about their duties.
In his old unit the worst he had to deal with was Sonny’s big heart and wild spirit.
There was a cost to it, but never one his team or the people they were chosen to protect had to pay.
“I’ll see you out,” Santiago told Audrey. Shutting down his computer, locking his file cabinet, then locking his door, he followed her out, nodding toward Cutter.
“I’ll make my rounds before heading up the mountain. Call me if you need me.”
“Night watch has got this.”
Santiago looked pointedly at Loyd before reiterating to Cutter. “Call me if you need to.”
It took him under thirty minutes to drive around town, ending up right back where he was last night: at Aunt Carolina’s bed and breakfast looking up at the second story window to see if the hellion was still in town.
Audrey’s car was out front, but the upstairs curtains were closed, the room was dark.
A satisfied grunt rumbled through his throat and chest. He’d got her out of town and that was a job well done.
A part of him though…a part of him couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that she’d capitulated so easily; was already feeling a loss at never being able to throw her over his shoulder and feel the curve of her ass in his palm.
At least not in person. In his imagination though…
Exiting his car—because he never did make it back to get that bacon—he paused in the middle of the street.
She was still here; passing the front window holding a cup of tea or coffee or whatever witches brew she drank as she trailed behind his great-aunt and Audrey.
The front door opened, and Audrey stepped outside. When she saw Santiago, Audrey waved, said something to Aunt Lina which made them both laugh, before getting in her car and driving off.
“Are you coming in for dinner, pececito?” Lina called out.
He continued the trek to the front door.
“Just here to pick up that bacon you promised me.”
“Of course he is,” the hellion muttered in derision. His fingertips tingled at the prospect of taking hold of her again.
“Ms. Green, you’ve got a bad understanding because I’m sure I was real clear about the necessity of you leaving my town today.”
She stood straighter, towering over his poor little aunt, and smiled at him, her eyelids lowered as she sipped from her cup.
“You ever heard the saying still waters run deep, Sheriff? Well you, Santiago Stillwater, are not that deep, which makes me wonder what gave you the impression that I’d give a shit about what you have to say.
So, let me disavow you, Sheriff, I don’t.
As a matter of fact, I’ve even decided to stay in your beloved little town a couple more days, and that’s on you.
You interrupted my journey, now you deal with the consequences. ”
She turned and sauntered away as he approached. “I hope he chokes on his bacon as divine intervention for cannibalizing his brethren,” he heard her say.
Aunt Lina’s eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth as if she was the one to call him a pig.
“Santiago, maybe it’s best that you come back for the bacon in the morning,” his aunt said. “I hear bacon, it’s not so good for the health, and at this time of night—”
“I’ve been wanting that bacon all damn day and that hellion is not going to stop me from having it.”
“OK, well then, come in, mijo. But no fighting with the only paid guest I’ve had in over two months.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Santi! Tranquillo,” his aunt cautioned behind him as he walked toward the kitchen.
He was six foot three and combat hardened. No way his aunt should need to caution him over some big booty woman’s venomous mouth.
“I’ll just get that bacon and go,” he told his aunt as she moved to the refrigerator. He ignored the woman refilling her cup at the island, ignored that she smelled like verdant sweet earth with a promise of rain.
The room was tense as his aunt placed a container of cooked bacon as well as the whole package of uncooked bacon in a paper bag.
He thanked his aunt and moved to leave without a word to that…other.
“You have a good night, Sheriff Stillwater.”
He froze. It wasn’t what she said, it was the intentional taunting, like she just refused to allow him to leave in peace.
He walked over to where she sat.
She wanted him to overreact; he could see it in her gaze.
“Was it something I said?” she asked.
With no earth to touch, no sky to gaze toward, no water to sink into, he was powerless against the cold depths of her eyes dragging him into her chaotic abyss.
“Why would you want to stay where you’re not wanted Ms. Green? It reeks of desperation and a psychopathic inability to not take a hint. Go back to where you came from or get to where you’re going, either’s fine with me as long as you go.”
She flinched back as if he’d slapped her and he immediately felt shame and remorse; would’ve apologized right then, but her eyes hardened and emptied.
He knew if he tried to apologize now, she’d have cause to ram the end of her spoon into his throat. Because he’d seen the moment of hurt and vulnerability before she’d iced it over.
He braced for her verbal barrage. Then she smiled. It was a genuine smile of joy.
“You’re right of course. I should leave, and though I may not immediately give you what you want, I’ll will strive to give you exactly what you deserve.”
He felt uneasy.
She stood and patted him gently over his heart. It lurched as if shutting down.
“I’ll see your nephew out, Ms. Lina.”
He turned and kissed his aunt on the crown of her head as he passed. The pinch of her mouth said she was irate with him.
Santiago only paused when he outside, halfway to his car. Ms. Green leaned against the door jam, arms and ankles crossed.
“Find something safe to do, Sheriff,” Ms. Green cautioned. “I hear these mountains are filled with dangerous unnatural things.” Her voice brushed over him like the ghostly hands of all his dead enemies. She was the dangerous unnatural thing.
Santiago got in his cruiser and pulled off without looking back.
He drove through town, focusing on the dark horizon where creeping mist slowly consumed Shrouded Lake. A warning, his gut whispered.
He’d be more wary of Ms. Green. Not because he was afraid of her, but because anyone that disrupted his control this deeply made him afraid of himself.