12. Town Meeting
Town Meeting
Helena
Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you
Friday morning dawns as I drive into town. Eli insisted the men could handle the house for a couple of hours, so I decided to take Ruth up on her long-standing offer of breakfast. The thought of a hot meal prepared by someone else and familiar company is a small comfort.
The diner’s parking lot is as full as I remember from my first day in town, but inside, the front dining room feels eerily empty. Sunlight streams through the windows, but it does little to dispel the heavy air hanging over the place. I settle onto a stool at the counter, laying my Bible beside me.
The sound of raised voices drifts from the back dining room, urgent, until one cuts through sharply. “We need to know if the rest of the town’s in danger! Once they’re done out there, will they come for the rest of us?”
Before I can strain to hear more, Ruth appears, her usual cheery demeanor intact. “Coffee, dear?” she asks, startling me out of my eavesdropping.
I manage a tight smile. “Yes, please.”
She pours my coffee and hands me a menu. “I’m glad you came to see me today.”
Her warmth feels slightly off, like a mask. I glance toward the source of the commotion. “What’s going on back there?”
She doesn’t falter, wiping the counter with forceful strokes. “Town meeting of sorts.”
I sip my coffee, unsatisfied. “What about?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with. The men can handle these things,” she says lightly, but there’s an edge to her voice, a dismissal that only fuels my curiosity.
“Why were they talking about danger?” I press, keeping my tone steady.
Ruth sighs, finally meeting my gaze. “There’ve been some deaths in the county.”
“Deaths?” My grip tightens on the mug. “Like a sickness?”
Her head shakes slowly. “No, like killings.”
I feel a chill at the word, my eyes darting back to the other room’s doorway where the voices have faded to urgent murmurs. “Murder?” I whisper, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.
“Six so far,” she replies, her tone almost too calm.
“Six?” The number lands like a stone in my chest. “Who?”
“What would you like for breakfast?” she asks, avoiding my question.
“Ruth,” I insist. “Who? Is the whole county in danger?”
She hesitates, her usual composure cracking. “I don’t think so. All the deaths happened on the Everly property.”
My heart stumbles over the name. “Everly?”
“They keep to themselves, out on their ranch.” She pauses, her eyes darkening. “Their land borders Devil’s Ridge.”
I work through her words. I’ve never heard mention of the neighboring property from Eli or Silas.
Images flash through my mind chaotically.
Silas riding out under the cover of night, his boots caked with blood, the wolves' mournful howls cutting through the darkness.
My hand instinctively grips my Bible, as if its presence could ward off the creeping dread.
“Ruth—” My voice falters.
“What’ll you have, dear?” Her smile is steady, but there’s something behind it, something that makes my pulse quicken.
“Eggs, no salt, and toast,” I manage. “Over easy. Wheat.”
She nods, satisfied. “I’ll have Jason get it started.” With that, she disappears into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I can’t shake the tension pressing in around me. Grabbing my Bible, I quietly move toward the entryway of the back room. Staying just out of sight, I peer in, listening as a man in a sheriff’s uniform addresses the gathered townsfolk.
“We don’t have any leads,” he says firmly, but there’s a weariness to his voice.
“We’re working closely with the Everly family.
Bennett sent Carrie and the children to an undisclosed location.
He and his men are armed, and we’ll have patrols out there day and night.
For now, keep your doors locked and carry when you’re on your land. ”
The room chitters with unease as the sheriff steps away from the table, walking toward the front. I lean back against the wall, holding my breath as he passes. He doesn’t glance my way, only the sound of the bell above the door ringing out as he leaves.
When I return to my stool, Ruth is setting my plate down. “Don’t mind the commotion,” she says, her voice low. “Just keep your Bible close and take care of the boy.”
Her words echo in my mind, unsettling in their familiarity. I nod slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “I will.”