Night of the Raven (9 page)

“Spiders, right. Forgot about those.” Amara twitched away a shiver. “I was phobic as a kid.” She nodded. “Ladder’s there, McVey. I’m not sure how much better the view will be, though. And unless he’s a complete fool, Willy Sparks won’t be hanging around. Why are we doing this?”

“Because I saw a flash downstairs. Possibly light bouncing off glass or metal.”

“Great. So Willy Sparks is a fool and he’s abandoned the subtle approach.”

“Or he has backup.”

“An even more cheerful thought.”

“It’s also possible a raven picked up a piece of glass or metal and dropped it in a tree.”

“Whatever the source, I can’t just hang around and wait for a hit man to do his job.”

“We’ll have to believe that McVey will do his job first.” Her uncle spoke from the top rung of the ladder stairs. “Meanwhile, Amara, you have excellent medical skills.”

She knew what was coming. However, a spider the size of a baby rat crawled out from behind an old chair and caused her muscles to seize. “You want me to help Dr. Whoever at— There’s a clinic in the Hollow, right?”

“There’s a midwife,” he said.

“And for anyone who’s not pregnant?”

“There’s the Cove.”

“Which has?”

McVey hopped from the cupola. “Sorry to say, the best we can boast is a nearsighted former army medic who still hasn’t grasped the concept of painkillers. Fog’s rolling in. If someone’s out there, he won’t be able to see us.”

Amara leaned over to check on the tarantula-size spider’s progress. “What aren’t you telling us, McVey?”

“You can’t read my mind?”

“Be a terrifying prospect if she could.” Her uncle glanced down, pulled a BlackBerry from his pocket and scowled at the screen. “I hate goat’s milk,” he declared.

“Must be Seth,” Amara said while her uncle raised the phone to his ear. “What?” she asked when McVey grinned. Then she got it and blew out a breath. “His nephew, Seth Blume, has a farm in the middle of nowhere, two hundred miles north of the Cove. He raises chickens, pigs and goats, McVey. I don’t read minds.”

He started toward her. “But you do other things.”

“I’m told I bake a mean lasagna.”

It occurred to her when she stopped scanning for spiders that she’d let him get too close. Before she could sidestep, he wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck.

“Look at me, Amara.”

“It would be hard not to from here.”

“What do you see?”

A mouth she was tempted to kiss. But he didn’t mean that, so she shifted her gaze to where he wanted it—the cheek she’d scratched last night.

“They weren’t gouges. Don’t give me more credit than I deserve.”

“They’re gone.”

“I still see marks.”

“Yeah?” He lowered his head and, damn it, made her breath stutter. “What would Jake’s kid brother see?”

“The same thing as anyone with a brain the size of a snow pea.” She refused to break eye contact. “I’m hoping yours is bigger than that.”

McVey’s lips crooked into a smile. She thought for a moment he was going to kiss her, but her uncle cleared his throat and the moment vanished.

“Seth can’t get hold of his mother.”

Dragging her eyes from McVey’s, Amara searched her mind for a name. Hannah, she thought.

“His mother’s your cousin, isn’t she, Uncle? People used to call her, uh, your cousin. Does Seth think something’s wrong?”

“A squirrel bit her two weeks back. She phoned him last Sunday to say her leg had swelled up like a balloon. Seth’s been trying to contact her for three days. He wants me to make sure she’s all right, maybe take her some aspirin.”

“Because a person with an infected leg must have a headache to go with it. Where does she live?”

He aimed a look up Bellam Mountain. “She moved to the manor six months ago. She wanted solitude. The outer wings are only partly habitable since Molly and Sadie Bellam left. Road that takes you there’s bumpier than the stairway to hell.”

“Heaven,” Amara corrected absently.

McVey gave the yard below a final visual sweep. “I drove up to Bellam Manor last fall, Red. Nothing about that road can be called heavenly.”

“Making it a perfect counterpoint to the state of my life.” Without looking over, she indicated the dense fog that was beginning to obliterate the upper limbs of the trees. “Coming from the north, right?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the way to Bellam Manor.”

“Know it. You might want to pack a few things. We can pick up any medical supplies you think you’ll need in the Hollow. I’ll make sure both towns are covered deputy-wise.”

Amara brought her eyes calmly to his. “I could tell you I know the way and you don’t have to come.”

“You could,” McVey agreed. “But then I’d have to tell you I went through the kitchen cupboards after you got that text message. There were two bags of coffee inside. I picked up supplies yesterday. I only bought one.”

Chapter Eight

“Take whatever you need, Dr. Bellam.” The pharmacist poked his Buddy Holly glasses up a little higher. “Just fill out the supply form so I know what to restock.” He ticked a finger behind him and whispered, “Bathroom. Gotta go.”

Amara selected the antibiotics and anti-inflammatories she required. She added a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, another of rubbing alcohol, a roll of gauze and two candy bars, then hoisted the substantially heavier medical bag onto her left shoulder.

The one and only pharmacy in Raven’s Hollow had been retrofitted into the back of an old-fashioned general store. The shelves were high and crowded, every floor plank squeaked and, when running at full capacity, the ancient refrigeration units tended to shimmy away from the walls. A quarter of the lights were either burned out or flickering, and she imagined the thirty-year-old cash register probably still died in the middle of a lengthy transaction.

Some things never changed.

“Excuse me.” A woman with huge brown eyes and a noticeable overbite waved a hand. “Do you have this lipstick in other colors? I’m looking for bubble-gum pink. It’s my trademark shade.”

“Yours and my cousin Yolanda’s. I don’t work here.” Amara lowered her bag to the floor. “The cashier’s at lunch and the pharmacist’s in the back. I just came in to shoplift some drugs.”

“Cool—and bold. I’m Mina Shell. I’m in town for the... Oh, there, I see one.” She reached over the glass counter to snag a tube. “Blast O’ Pink. Perfect. D’you suppose I could leave the money with a note? Except I haven’t got any paper. Or a pen.”

Amara was tearing a blank sheet from the supply pad when she heard a creak behind her. Before she could raise her head, a man gripped her wrist and jerked her around.

“Hey, there, gorgeous. I’ve been looking for you all over this freaky bird town.” He caught the other woman by the scruff of her neck and squeezed. “Not so fast, Pretty in Pink. I got a few things I want to say to Glinda while we’re more or less alone.”

The knife Amara had glimpsed the previous night dangled over her shoulder. The man rubbed a thumb across the blade and offered a lewd smile. “Don’t you just love how some store owners are so trusting? Not a security camera in sight—if you’re wishing and hoping, that is. Okay, so, brass tacks time, Glin.” He leaned in closer. “Is this your real body or do you fog a man’s mind so he only thinks you’re a babe? Shut up,” he snapped when Mina squealed.

“You’re pinching me.”

“Duh, yeah. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m not a nice guy. And speaking of not nice—” he turned to Amara “—I think it’s time you and me—”

It was as far as he got. Amara brought her heel down on his instep, plowed an elbow into his ribs and, spinning free, took a swing at his head with the bottle of rubbing alcohol she’d managed to slip from her medical bag.

She hadn’t expected to knock him out, but she had hoped to stun him. Instead he whipped the knife up and showed his teeth.

“I am so gonna do you,” he growled.

Spotting a movement at the rear of the store, Amara shouted, “Benny, get McVey.” She straight-armed the plastic alcohol bottle as if it would shield her from a knife the size of a machete.

Thankfully the man glanced over, saw the pharmacist and, shoving Mina aside, took off through the side exit.

Lowering the bottle, Amara released her fear on a trembling breath. Pale-cheeked and clutching his phone, the pharmacist rushed forward.

“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? I called the police station. I’m so sorry.”

“I broke a heel,” Mina told Amara. “And a fingernail.” She blinked. “All I wanted was a tube of lipstick and I got pinched, shoved and maybe almost decapitated by the Machete Kid. Not sure I should hang for the Raven thing after all. I mean, that was one humongous knife.”

It was also the second time Amara had seen it.

She was returning the rubbing alcohol to her medical bag when Jake burst through the front door, armed and clearly prepared for battle.

“Where’s the creep?” he demanded, waving his .38 Special back and forth.

Amara eased the barrel aside with her index finger. “He left by the exit to the alley.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “You let him go? Why didn’t you...?”

“Hemorrhoids,” she reminded him. Then she shrugged. “As long as you insist on believing in the absurd.”

“I saw the knife.” Mina piped up. “But I was too scared to notice the guy’s face. Sorry.”

“I saw his face.” The pharmacist poked at his glasses. “Saw it here a few minutes ago and through my bedroom window early this morning. The man wearing it came out of the building across the alley, the one with the raven and the witch on the door that kids keep spray painting red. You know the place, Deputy. It’s where Yolanda Bellam lives.”

* * *

P
ANDEMONIUM REIGNED AT
the station house. No fewer than ten voices shouted at the same time. McVey made no attempt to separate one from the other. Instead he tried to keep an eye on Amara, who stood in front of the dispatcher’s desk, relating her account of the incident to one of the Harden twins.

“Stop badgering me.” Yolanda’s shrill whine rose above the din. “Is it my fault some jerk with a knife happened to be sneaking out of a building that has three other apartments in it besides mine at whatever o’clock in the morning? McVey...”

“I said take her statement, Jake, not accuse her of harboring a fugitive.”

“He wasn’t a fugitive when she harbored him.”

“I didn’t harbor him.” Stepping directly into McVey’s line of vision, Yolanda walked the fingers of both hands up his shirt. “My brother wasn’t there when I got up this morning, so I can’t prove I was alone. Jake thinks I’m lying, but you believe me, don’t you?”

What he believed, he thought as he eased her aside, was that he should turn in his badge, hunt Westor Hall down and hang him from one of the tortured oaks by his—

“I hate to interrupt a man who looks as if he wants to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Amara tapped his arm from the side. “But is there any chance of us ditching this town before the fog that’s rolling out to sea gives way to the nasty black clouds that are creeping down from the north? Because the only thing worse than the road to Bellam Manor in a downpour is—well, actually, short of a mudslide, not a whole lot.”

McVey indicated the crowd. “How many of these people were in the pharmacy when Wes—the guy with the knife appeared?”

She regarded him for a moment before perusing the room. “The pharmacist and Mina, but she freaked and left when Jake started waving a second gun around.”

“Smart woman.”

“Benny’s your best witness, McVey. And maybe one or two people from the alley. Everyone else is either bored and curious or waiting for the Red Eye to open.”

McVey reached around her to intercept Yolanda’s curled fingers. “No scratching,” he warned.

She glared at Amara. “You stayed at Nana’s last night.”

Amara glared right back. “Pretty sure you said I couldn’t say with you.”

“I also said...” She glanced at McVey, then back. “I hate you.”

“So no change there.”

When Yolanda’s hands balled at her sides, McVey got between them. “Lazarus had a call from his nephew, Seth, this morning, Yolanda. He thinks his mother might need medical attention.”

She sniffed. “Since when does Seth worry about his mother? If it doesn’t cluck or have four legs, he doesn’t notice or care about it. That includes Hannah—who’s a story unto herself—and why Lazarus gives two hoots about her is beyond me.”

Pushing a hefty man aside, Jake joined them. “Seth’s only worried his mother’ll kick off before Lazarus does. Then, poof, there’ll go his chance of worming any inheritance money he might be in line to receive from her.” He shrugged an irritable shoulder. “Lazarus can’t stand Seth. Or me. Or my brother. Or half the Blumes, or any of the Bellams in either town.”

“He likes Nana,” Amara pointed out. “He also holds the title on Bellam Manor.”

Jake’s lips peeled away from his teeth. “Well, hell, Amara, anyone could get past the Bellam name to own a house and land that are worth a fortune. As for actual Bellams, you can’t blame the guy for not liking them. The only one I ever dated threatened to turn me into a toad.”

McVey pressed on his now-throbbing eyes. “Only threatened?” he asked. “Do your job, Jake. Talk to Benny and anyone who saw anything in the alley. Send the rest of these people home.”

Jake’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “What about the guy with the knife? Are we just gonna let him roam around free until whenever?”

“He won’t be roaming, Deputy.”

“He will if we don’t go after him.”

“He doesn’t need to roam, Jake.” Amara glanced toward the north woods. “All he needs to do is follow McVey and me up the mountain to Bellam Manor.”

* * *

I
F
W
ESTOR WAS SANE
—and McVey figured he had his moments—he wouldn’t attempt to follow them even partway up the mountain.

By 4:00 p.m., the sky had turned an ominous shade of black. Swollen clouds tinged with purple collided and swirled. Where they did, tiny bolts of electricity shot from one to the other.

“This is fascinating, really.” Amara secured her medical bag in the space behind her seat. “The family history books claim that Hezekiah Blume became a raven on a night that started exactly like this.”