Mystic Hearts Page 7

  “I might not be in the FBI anymore,” Jake’s voice rose, matching Larry, “but you damn well better cough up what’s going on. How else can you have backup?”

  Larry sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Jake and his demands didn’t add up. “Are we talking about the same job? Paul called, told me Jed Bradley, the overseer of Greenwood Manor, had received a phone call about strange lights. Given the nature of the call, Bradley elicited your brother’s help. I can’t say why Paul called me and not you.”

  Jake dropped his arms, a smile stretched across his face. “You’ve been had.”

  Steve laughed.

  A bright, sunny day and Larry felt like he had been in the dark since he arrived. “What the hell is so funny?”

  “Brother Paul set you up,” Jake forced out between breaths.

  Jake’s words took a moment to sink into Larry’s brain. Jake just proved his earlier suspicions. Paul had set the stage for him and Charlene.

  Larry jabbed his hands on his hips and stared at the water as another thought plunged into his mind. Had Paul laced the wine? Given Paul’s character, he shook his head and immediately dismissed the notion. “No way.”

  “Having a private conversation with yourself?” Steve asked.

  Larry ignored Steve. “So you’re pulling my leg about not calling you.”

  “Sort of,” Jake said and finished his beer.

  “I’m not. An agent is always prepared, has backup,” Steve kept on.

  “Anderson, you’re a pain in the ass.”

  “You need standby for those tight spots, like a blind date blind-siding you.” Jake tossed his can to the cooler. “What irony. Damn, this is better than fishing.”

  “How’d you handle yourself, agent?” The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched. “Given your fear of women, did you nosedive or deliver?”

  Larry couldn’t stop the anger blazing through his veins from his friend’s teasing. He didn’t want to explain his behavior toward the female race to clarify Steve’s misconception.

  He opened his mouth to tell Steve to go to hell when Jake’s face switched to agent mode, dead serious. “Back off, Anderson. Untouchable territory.”

  Steve glared at Jake and then took in Larry over his beer can, swallowed, and nodded at Larry. “Sorry, man.”

  Outside of Jake no one knew the truth about his past. He planned to keep it that way. “It’s forgotten.”

  “Back on topic,” Jake said. “Do you have any more to report?”

  “No. With Charlene’s appearance my investigation stopped before it really got started. What do you have?” Larry asked Jake.

  “Late last night after the Director filled me in on the tip, he requested I work on the case on the down-low. He suspects a modest operation that can be taken out easily.”

  Steve eyed Jake. “You can’t get away from the FBI, can you?”

  “Not from the Director, I can’t. I’m doing side work for him under Old Town Investigations all the time,” Jake said. “I’m betting one of the Impalers invented the factitious Madison Hand and flying ghosts to ward off suspicion from what’s actually happening on the manor.”

  “Hoaxes to remove suspicion off the illegal drug trade,” Larry mumbled, speaking the ridiculousness out loud. “Lights dancing on the horizon.”

  “Poetic,” Steve snickered.

  “Shithead,” he retorted and finished his beer. “When the lights flashed, the length of each light varied, similar to Morse code.”

  Jake stood and picked up a stick. “A signal.”

  “Sounds like the worker bees were busy,” Steve said.

  The stick in Jake’s hand snapped. “Larry, you have any idea how far south things could have gone last night? Next time notify me.”

  Larry spotted the disappointment in his friend’s face, understood it, but held firm. If he had to do it again, he would. “You’re newly married. I didn’t want to pull you away to take a ride. Remember, I didn’t think anything more would happen. Hell, you went through enough with Sanjar and his men shooting you.”

  “Maybe so, but this shit’s going on in our backyard,” Jake said.” If I’d known, I would have prevented Charlene from going.”

  “I didn’t even fucking know!” If Larry had, he would have taken Charlene home immediately. Peculiar lights were a whole different stakeout than illegal drugs. “I handled it.”

  Jake chuckled. “I supposed you did. You’ve had your eye on her since you met. Paul did you a favor.”

  Larry never considered himself an open book. “I’m that easy to read?”

  “Not for the average person you’re not” Jake said.

  “A stone sculpture tells more than you,” Steve interjected. “I didn’t know.”

  “See, the average person can’t tell.” Jake grinned and turned his head toward the water ignoring Steve’s glower. “From six o’clock last night until three this morning, I surveilled Ellis Goldberg’s house. His alias is Roach. He’s not high on the totem pole. I hoped he’d lead me to the ‘go to’ guy.”

  “I take it, you came up empty,” Larry said.

  “Yes.”

  They needed eyes on the land. “Let’s meet at the manor in an hour for a search,” Larry said.

  “Do you have any idea how big the farm is?” Jake asked. “We’d need a team of a hundred to cover it.”

  Jake was right. Over six hundred acres embodied the manor, which required more man power than they had for a case that was supposed to stay low-key. “I’ll fill the Director in that we’re looking into it,” Larry said.

  “He already knows I’d drag you and Steve into it if I needed extra eyes and hands,” Jake said, petting Willis.

  “I’m heading to the house to see Pamela.” Steve tossed the empty cans in the cooler. “She’d kick my ass if I don’t. Larry, can you give me a lift? My wheels are at the office.”

  “Will do.” Larry stared out at the water, the sick feeling that things were about to get worse crept down his spine. “Damn, I hope this case doesn’t escalate into something more than the obvious.”

  Chapter Six

  The schoolhouse haunted Charlene––everything that happened last night did. With Larry’s help, she’d muddled through some of it. Still, she needed to put eyes on the land to determine what was real or fake.

  After careful consideration, she changed her mind about taking her son to Greenwood Manor with her. He’d enjoy running around the open land and seeing the animals. Not that any livestock inhabited the land that she was aware of, but a cat or two roamed the area, maybe even kittens.

  An image of a witch flying on a broomstick visualized in her mind. She squeezed her eyes, warding off the apparition. If going to the manor to rid the oddities didn’t work, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Charlene dressed in a cotton shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, and headed downstairs. “Mom! Henry!” She set her purse on the hallway table and froze.

  The normally active house lay quiet. Her mother had said she’d fix something to eat. Where are they? An odd thought ricocheted across her mind: Andrew’s back.

  Adrenaline spiked, raising her senses to high alert. She scanned the area: umbrella stand—without a habitant—a pair of flip-flops, nothing to use as a weapon.

  “Charlene, dear.” Her mother’s voice sang with the clicking of the back door.

  Tension whooshed out of Charlene on a puff of air. “I’m here.” She headed toward the kitchen as Henry barged through the back door. “Mommy, can I go? Can I? Huh? Huh?”

  Charlene took in her mother’s casual dress and Henry’s shirt and slacks. She knelt in front of him, slid the tendril of sandy-colored hair off his forehead, and took in his excited face. “Where do you want to go, sweetie?”

  “To the movies with Grandma’s friend. Her grandson will be there.” Henry’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s ten, Mommy!”

  Charlene smiled, wishing she could bottle up at least some of his energy, and glanced to her mother.

  “We�
��ll go to an early movie and be back before dinner.” Doris moved closer and placed her hands on either side of Charlene’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?”

  Henry blinked and tilted his head.

  A feeling of failure purged her veins from the ‘kick ass’ adrenaline that pumped in her blood moments ago. She couldn’t let her son see her cowering. “Nope. I haven’t seen a ghost. I wanted to ask Henry if he wanted to go to Greenwood Manor today.” She focused on him. “You’re such a lucky boy. You get to pick what you want to do. Whichever you choose is fine with me.”

  His nose and mouth twisted as he gave the choices due consideration, but she had a good idea he already had his mind set on going to the movies with a bigger kid.

  When he took too long in responding, she answered for him. “You want to go to the movies, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. You’ll have so much fun.” She leaned in close to him, in a conspirator way. “You can make sure your grandma behaves, too. You know how she gets when she’s with her friends.”

  Henry grinned and looked up at Doris. “I do. She giggles a lot,” he whispered and directed his attention back to Charlene. “If I need something, I’ll use Grandma’s phone to call you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She squeezed him tight, rose, and kissed her mom on the cheek. “Thanks.”

  “No problem, me and my hooligan friend will enjoy his company.” Doris laughed and guided Henry to the back door. “Pancakes are in the refrigerator.”

  “Thank you.” Charlene followed, locked the door, and watched them skip to her mother’s car. Skipping? Her mother cracked her up.

  Fear that Andrew, or anyone, could possibly break into their home urged her upstairs and to the bedroom. She swung open the closet door and grabbed the baseball bats she’d stashed in the corner.

  Until today, considering that an intruder could invade her place had never entered her mind. Why? Chills covered her skin. She ran downstairs and put the bats in the empty stand beside the door and said a little prayer she’d never use them.

  The movie would take a few hours. If she left now, she’d have enough time to drive to the manor, look around, and return to spend the evening with Henry. She snatched her purse and stepped outside. The warm sun and crisp, fresh air heated her skin and relaxed her muscles.

  She stopped dead.

  Where’s my brain?

  Larry drove her home last night. She flopped down on the porch steps of her white brick rambler, grabbed her cell from inside her purse, and searched through the contact lists. On a weekday, in the middle of the afternoon, who’d have it off? A few of the neighbors were school teachers, but today was a work day. Maybe one of them would give her a ride.

  Her cell rang. Celine Marx’s name flashed on the screen. Perfect. “Hi.”

  “I’m so pissed at Steve right now. What are you doing? Want to have a beer?” Celine was the only member of the BOFs that rambled.

  “Sounds like a plan, but first, I have a favor to ask. Could you give me a lift to Greenwood Manor?”

  “Okay, but…” The phone went silent before Celine said, “You stayed there last night, didn’t you? I should have come out after work. How’d it go, or should I even ask?”

  If Celine had called and offered to stay, Charlene wouldn’t have spent time with Larry. “No worries. Can you give me a ride?”

  “Not a problem. I can rant about Steve on the way. I’m turning onto your road.”

  Charlene disconnected and stared at her phone, amazed how each member of the Band of Friends would do anything for each other. She’d never had friends like them.

  A horn honked. Celine’s blonde hair, blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin out-shined the new red Camaro.

  Charlene slid into the car. “You were fast.”

  “I was almost here when I called. Pamela told me you were off today.”

  Before she fully shut the door, Celine sped off.

  “Why are you driving like the car is a bat out of hell?”

  “Steve and I broke up.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlene said, trying not to sound like a broken record.

  “He’s never here. At a moment’s notice, he flies off to who knows where, leaving me behind.” The car’s signal flashed, and she left the subdivision and turned right onto a four-lane road. The speed increased. Celine whipped in and out of traffic.

  Charlene grasped the armrest, her head growing woozier with each jerk. Leaving the house might not have been a good idea. Nope, Celine driving when she was ticked off was the epitome of bad ideas. She twisted her lips, trying to hold back the bile wanting to rise. “You have to slow down or your car’s beautiful black leather interior will soon have spots.”

  Celine slowed down before turning onto a road with two lanes. “Sorry. He pisses me off. I can’t think straight. I want to wring his neck.”

  “I don’t understand why you get upset. He’s doing his job. It’s not like he has a choice when he leaves.”

  The glare Celine gave smacked Charlene in the face. She rested her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap, but you two fight all the time.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Ever since I joined the group, you have.” From the corner of her eyes, Charlene spotted tears trembling on the end of Celine’s thick lashes. For several miles, Charlene remained quiet, thinking of a way to make up for her curtness. “I know you love each other,” she said tenderly, “but not everyone belongs together.” Her life with Andrew flashed in her mind. “Fighting is not healthy,” she spouted, her tone laced with anger. “How can you date when you argue? I can’t…I won’t stay with another man like my ex. He yelled, manipulated, and didn’t trust me to make the right decisions.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t trust Steve. He doesn’t yell or question my decisions.”

  Guilt steamrolled over Charlene. She had no right to lecture Celine or make her doubt her relationship. “No, that’s my hang up filtering its way into this conversation. Sorry.”

  A pop sounded and the car swerved.

  The surprise sent a shock of adrenaline through Charlene. Her pulse raced and breathing released in gasps. Had someone shot at them?

  A thud, thud, thud noise resonated in the interior of the car.

  “Crap, I have a flat.” Celine white-knuckled the steering wheel until the car reached the dirt shoulder and stopped. She put the gearshift in park and looked at Charlene. “Hey, it’s okay. I blew a tire.”

  Charlene unclenched her fists. “Sounded like a gun.”

  “More like a cherry bomb, but—” The skin between Celine’s eyes wrinkled. “Blown tires can create the same sound…sometimes.”

  Celine’s attempt to reassure Charlene failed. Her mind whirled with someone trying to harm them. “What if…”

  “No one shot at us. Why would they?”

  Good question, which made her wonder. Had her jumpiness since the kidnapping been her imagination after all, or was there a reason for it? She thought back on the last several months. Being taken against a person’s wishes would make anyone jumpy. Still, the gut feeling that a deeper reason was behind it caused her to have unsettled nerves. What the reason was, she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “I need to check the tire.” Charlene shoved the door open.

  “I don’t have a spare.”

  Charlene’s eyebrow shot up.. “You don’t have a spare?”

  “Didn’t buy one. I figured, I’d be close to town and could call the auto service if I needed.”

  “For the love of…” Charlene climbed out of the car, looked at the flat rear tire, and shook her head. A minute later, she sagged against the seat. “Do you have a jack?”

  “Um, I don’t think so.”

  Charlene swallowed the lecture she wanted to give Celine. “We need to call someone.”

  Celine stared ahead. “I don’t want to call Steve. Do you have some
one we could call this time of day?”

  The question didn’t require any thought. She yanked her phone out of her purse and called Larry.

  “Hi, Charlene,” he answered. His hot voice soothed her like a gentle breeze. She pressed the receiver closer to her ear, wanting him near, and caught Celine watching.

  “Hi, Larry. Celine and I had a flat tire. She doesn’t have a spare.”

  “Where are you?”

  What she’d say next wouldn’t go over well. “Heading to Greenwood Manor.”

  The silence that followed rang loud with his anger. He cleared his throat. “You went? You ignored my advice?”

  His tone along with the unspoken order from this morning got under her skin.

  Larry didn’t yell. Still, memories rushed back: Andrew making demands, ordering and manipulating her to do what he wanted. Larry’s tone made her feel like a heel, as if she’d stepped over the proverbial line…the same manner Andrew had forced upon her.

  “Charlene?” Larry said, snapping her out of her deluge of thoughts.

  And she’d believed he was different. “Sorry to bother you.” She moved the phone away from her ear, waiting for a horn or some odd creature to appear and stop her from making a huge mistake. Nothing happened. She hit the disconnect button. “Men.”

  “They’re scum.” Celine pushed her bottom lip into a pout. “I love them, but they are.”

  Disappointment and a healthy dose of shame flowed through Charlene.

  “I don’t know what’s between you and Larry. From where I sit, the driver’s seat by the way, you called him quickly, too quickly for just acquaintances.”

  Charlene needed to think of something fast before Celine took what was not going on between her and Larry too far. “Noth—”

  Celine held up her hand, stopping her. “Let me finish. Larry didn’t respond the way you wanted, so you hang up on him? And you question me and Steve arguing? What’s up with that? What’s good for you isn’t good for me?”

  With no words to explain her behavior, Charlene shifted her gaze from the empty road and gazed at her friend. Feeling ashamed and mixed up, she slowly lifted a shoulder.

  Celine studied her a few moments, her expression shifting from frustrated, to concerned. “Don’t worry. I still love you.” She pushed the blue-tooth button on the steering wheel, and said, “Steve Anderson.”