Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (24 page)
The red brick structure had been built somewhere around the turn of the last century, but the halls were well lit and the floors polished to a shine. He led the way and skirted the elevator to climb a narrow stairway to the second floor.
“Devlin. You’re back.”
Ramsey managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes. Of course the Spring County auditor would have to be a woman.
“Didn’t get ’nough of you yesterday, Hannah.”
He turned, took Ramsey by the elbow, and guided her up to the counter. “Have you met Ramsey Clark?”
She froze, hand still in the Cheetos bag, fervently hoping she wasn’t going to be called upon to shake hands. “Good morning.”
The older woman’s gaze met hers, the expression in them amused. “No, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She was tall and still willowy, with brown hair going to gray and a pair of half bifocals perched on her nose. A decorative chain attached to their ends and looped around her neck. In her flowered short-sleeved dress and nylons with close-toed pumps, she reminded Ramsey of the stern librarian in her high school.
“Hannah pretty well runs things ’round here,” Dev was saying, leaning his folded arms against the counter.
“Well, let’s say I keep track of things,” she corrected, her polite smile including Ramsey. “Which is lucky, since you’ve been full of questions this week.”
But Ramsey was distracted from the conversation by the woman’s nameplate setting on the counter. “Hannah . . . Ashton?”
The woman’s brows rose. “That’s right.”
Feeling foolish with both the auditor and Dev staring at her, she said, “I recognize the last name. Ashton’s Pond?” Then winced when Dev stepped deliberately on her toes.
“My great-great-granddaddy settled here before the town even existed,” the woman said. “Many things in these parts still bear his name. A street in town, a park, the pond. There used to be a feed store on Main Street fifty years ago run by my granddaddy. Most Ashtons have moved away, but there are still a few of us around.”
Shifting her attention to Dev, the woman’s manner became more businesslike. “What can I help you with today, Devlin?”
“I was wonderin’ if you could get me a property trace on Rose Thornton’s place. I’m lookin’ clear back to the original owner.”
Hannah pursed her lips and looked up at him. “I’ll be glad to do just that. But I can already tell you who the original owner was. It was my great-great-granddaddy, Rufus Ashton.”
“No one on this list matches a name Donnelle gave us when she was talking about the legend,” Ramsey observed. She was scanning the sheet Hannah had prepared for them as she drove.
“Pay attention to the road.” He snatched the paper from her hand and skimmed it himself. “Well, it was a long shot.”
“A long shot for what?” she wondered. “To find ghosts? Sometimes lights are just lights, Stryker. And that’s all I saw on Rose’s property last night.”
He adjusted his seat belt to allow him to slouch more comfortably in his seat. “Everybody’s seein’ lights in the woods,” he mused. “The kids at Ashton’s Pond, and now you.”
Because the obvious seemed to have escaped him, she pointed out, “We should be more focused on who’s in the woods at night and what they’re up to.”
“Guess you’ll be wantin’ to camp out there and take a look for yourself some time.”
Just the thought had her palms going damp, her stomach hollowing out. There was no way in hell she was going into those woods at night. She prayed it wouldn’t become necessary. Maybe she could convince Rollins to check around. Some of it was county land, after all.
“I still think it was probably that Ezra T. you told me about. Or maybe a poacher.” Both would have reason to be sneaking around the woods after dark.
Of course there were plenty of activities the woods would provide cover for. Because her throat had gone dry, she reached for her soda. Terrifying activities unsuspected in the light of day. Cassie Frost had discovered that.
So had Ramsey, once upon a time.
She glanced over at Stryker and found him with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. She felt a flash of envy. She’d been the one to spend hours after he left going over ViCAP responses until her eyeballs bled. And if the activity had kept her mind from straying in his direction too often, she’d welcomed it for that alone.
It was still a bit disconcerting to recall how easily he’d diverted her attention. One moment she’d been cleaning up and preparing to kick him out, and the next she’d been wrapped around him playing tonsil hockey with a fervor that she still found more than a little embarrassing.
There weren’t many men in her acquaintance who were satisfied with some light petting, especially sitting in a motel room with a perfectly good bed nearby. She’d been close enough to him to recognize his arousal. That had made it all the more surprising when he’d left without an argument.
Surprising . . . and maybe a bit disappointing, too. Enough so that she couldn’t quite push away the thought that perhaps there’d be no harm if she didn’t send him away the next time. She wasn’t interested in anything more than the moment, and she hadn’t met a man yet who’d quibble with a woman uninterested in strings.
Purposefully, she let the tires on his side leave the road, jolting him upright again. Smirking, she said innocently, “Here’s the turnoff for Cora Beth’s place.”
“Like I said once before, pure mean,” he murmured. His gaze was fixed on the scene outside the window. “Did you have a chance to look at the police report I left?”
His nonchalant tone didn’t fool her. “I did.” She slowed the vehicle to maneuver around the ruts the spring rains had carved in the secluded drive. Keeping her eyes on the bumpy path ahead meant she didn’t have to risk looking at him. “Plenty of eyewitnesses placing Lucas in the vicinity of Jessalyn’s place the first stop he made. Second time around, the next door neighbor, Alvin Crowell, swore he’d seen your father standing in the window of Jessalyn’s bedroom.” Never mind what the man had been doing looking into the woman’s bedroom, Ramsey thought, as she wrestled the car over a teeth-jarring bump. If that particular question had been asked of him, the answer hadn’t been included in the official report.
“So there’s no question of his guilt.”
His words were uttered just a little too easily for her to be unaware of the emotion bubbling just below the surface. “I didn’t say that.” Ramsey pulled to a stop before a simple framed house painted a cheerful yellow with white shutters. “There were lots of questions left unanswered. But the one that still bugs me the most is, where did your dad spend the hours between his first visit to Jessalyn’s and the second? Seems like someone intent on getting that drunk, there’d be plenty of witnesses to that, as well.”
She saw a curtain twitch at the front window of the house, knew someone inside was wondering at their presence there. “With his blood alcohol level, he had to have spent the interim doing little more than drinking. But your mother’s statement indicated he hadn’t done it at home. Hadn’t even gone there in the interim. So where was he?”
He looked at her then, and the bleak expression in his eyes had her stomach twisting. “I don’t know. But if that’s the only question you’ve got after lookin’ at the police report, maybe I should quit pokin’ ’round.”
“That’s not the most outstanding question, Stryker.” Shoving open the car door, she unfolded herself and sincerely hoped Cora Beth Truman was more forthcoming today than she had been during her previous visit.
Starting up to the house, she continued, “The most important thing I’m still wondering about is why there’s no mention of it in the police report. Did they investigate it at all? If so, why wasn’t it included? If not, why not?” And she wasn’t happy with the random questions rattling around in her mind, either. Lucas Rollins had nothing to do with the investigation at hand. She couldn’t afford yet another diversion while she was searching for Cassie Frost’s killer.
She slid a glance toward the man at her side as they made their way up to the house.
Distraction
was a pretty accurate summary of his effect on her and her focus on this case. She was fervently hoping that this time around he’d prove to be a helpful one.
Distraction
was a pretty accurate summary of his effect on her and her focus on this case. She was fervently hoping that this time around he’d prove to be a helpful one.
There was the prerequisite small talk required first, of course. Ramsey had expected the woman’s open delight at seeing Stryker. Had even accepted the green tea pressed on her and pretended to drink it, all the while longing for the Diet Coke she’d left in the car. But the familiar impatience had begun to burn when talk turned to Cora Beth’s son while she caught Dev up on the happenings in his life for the last twenty-odd years.
The feeling faded momentarily when Cora Beth pulled out some faded photographs of two young boys sporting cocked bats and baseball caps pulled low over their eyes. She knew without asking that the blond one was Dev.
The famed grin was in appearance, of course. Along with an expression of enjoyment that would have been difficult to miss. The hot and cold running charm had been apparent even then. Giving him decades to hone that lethal charisma.
Finally, Cora Beth’s attention turned to her. And Ramsey was certain she wasn’t imagining the note of reproof in her mild words.
“You shoulda told me yesterday you were a friend of Devlin’s, Ms. Clark. I’m afraid I’m a little wary of strangers, livin’ up here the way I do. ’Specially since my husband passed five years back.”
“I certainly understand your caution, Mrs. Truman.” Whatever her feelings about having to use Stryker to get people to talk to her, Ramsey was eager to get some needed information now. “A woman livin’ alone needs to be extra careful. But I’ve heard so much about your abilities as a healer, I’ve been mighty anxious to talk to you ’bout that.” She ignored the startled glance Dev shot her. As she’d told him once before, she was fluent in y’all. And willing to use any tool at her disposal to loosen the woman’s tongue.
Cora Beth settled her slight frame back against the overstuffed couch. Her blond head contrasted starkly with the brown and orange flowery fabric covering it. “So you’re interested in healin’?”
“I’m interested in the various plants and herbs used in the process.”
Truman studied her with cornflower blue eyes. “Since you don’t strike me as a holistic believer, I assume this has somethin’ to do with the death of that poor girl they found a couple weeks ago.” She held up a hand to stem any response Ramsey might have made. “I know you can’t talk about it. Don’t want to hear it, truth be told. I shudder just thinkin’ of somethin’ like that happenin’ so close to here.”
“I’m not lookin’ for any plant derivatives that might act as intoxicants.” Ramsey knew she had to choose her words carefully. The presence of the plant root in the victim’s stomach hadn’t been released to the press, and if she had anything to say about it, wouldn’t be. By holding the detail back, they’d have a fact only the killer would know, which would be important when they got a suspect in custody. “What I mostly need to know ’bout is things ’round here that would be easily accessed for medicinal purposes.”
Cora Beth tipped some more tea in Dev’s cup, which was miraculously empty. Ramsey made a mental note to ask him later if he really liked the brew. She’d start to worry about him if he did. She’d rate the taste just slightly above that of swamp water.
“I have my own medicinal herb garden,” the woman started, tucking both ankles neatly to the side in a gesture that managed to look feminine and uncomfortable at once. “Most healers do. Mix my own healin’ agents for various ailments according to whatever complaint my patient has.”
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