Mystic Hearts (10 page)

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.”