Rocks & Gravel (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 3) (20 page)

* * *

T
hough the Gaslight City Civic Center
had modern air conditioning, the hundred-fifty-year old-building didn’t have modern insulation. The day’s intense heat lingered in the high-ceilinged room, absorbing the air conditioner’s cool air faster than the unit could pump more out. Made me glad I talked Memaw into staying home. Hannah positioned her handheld fan so it blew on both of us, but I continued fanning myself with the program Rainy Bruce handed me at the front door.

A few streets over, the Catholic church’s bells began chiming the hour. It was eight o’clock, time for the debate to begin. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a place where my bony ass didn’t pinch my screaming nerves. As Dean’s campaign manager, Rainy’d advised me to keep my mouth shut, no matter what was said, to be quietly supportive of Dean. I intended to take her advice no matter how bad things got. The house lights dimmed and the lights on the stage brightened.

Dean walked out wearing his Burns County Deputy’s uniform, his hat held in both hands in front of him, and went to the podium on the far side of the stage. A smattering of applause rippled over the room. Dean gave a short wave to acknowledge it. Sheriff Joey waddled out, leaning heavily on his cane, sweat beaded on his red face. I didn’t like the man at all, but even so I worried he might stroke out at any moment. Somebody needed to bring him a glass of cool water.

Benny Longstreet stepped to center stage, wearing his trademark cowboy suit, his silver belt buckle and jeweled bolo tie blinding in the stage lights. He grinned, showing his big, horsey teeth, and waved to the crowd.

“His getup’s uglier than a possum’s pecker,” I whispered to Hannah.

She elbowed me but giggled. “How would you know what one looks like?”

We both clapped our hands to our faces and snickered as silently as we could. I owed what little sanity I had tonight to Hannah. She came over to Memaw’s as soon as she heard the news and helped me through the hours before the debate, not with false promises of how it would be okay but with a frank story about the humiliation she felt when her name was all over the tabloids because her famous athlete husband had fathered a child with his mistress. Hannah found out the day the tabloids hit the stands. She quoted Kris Kristofferson, telling me not to let the bastards get me down.

“All right, folks, we’re about to get started.” Benny took out a stack of index cards. “Everybody who ain’t found a seat please do so.”

“Ain’t enough seats, Mr. Benny,” some man hollered from the back.

“Oh, hell,” Benny said. “This is exciting, ain’t it? Would you younger folks let some of these people who can’t stand for the duration of the debate sit down?”

The room filled with shuffling as people craned their necks, hoping they didn’t have to give up their seats. I glanced at the people lining the wall next to our row, and motioned to Mrs. Elaine Watson and the elderly lady with her to take Hannah’s and my seats.

“Come on,” I told Hannah. “I know where there’s an air vent. It’ll be cooler.”

People stilled again, and Benny introduced the candidates and asked the first question. “Deputy Dean, how do you intend to improve the way the Burns County Sheriff’s Office solves crimes?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Over the year and a half I’ve worked in Burns County, we’ve had numerous issues with narcotic manufacturing. We’ve broken up three large operations and at least a couple dozen smaller ones.” He paused to let this sink in. “I plan to reallocate funds to hire additional personnel so we won’t be stretched so thin. I also plan to buy more computers and get us some up-to-date software to help us do our jobs better. Some of the people we arrested had probation violations we should have been aware of and would have been aware of if we weren’t operating on outdated equipment.”

“Now wait a minute,” Sheriff Joey broke in. “All this modern technology crap is just an excuse for not doing the actual work of law enforcement.”

A cheer somewhere near the front of the room erupted and went on until Joey, smirking, held up one chubby hand.

“This job is pounding the pavement. Not sitting behind a computer. It’s about knowing the citizens of this county and understanding their needs—”

Elaine Watson shot up from my former seat. “Sheriff Joey, I got a question.”

“Go ahead Miss Elaine.” Joey’s voice could have dripped sugar.

“If you know me and understand my needs so well, why did you shoot my dog for no reason?”

His face reddened. “Miss Elaine, that was an honest misunderstanding, and it was a long, time ago. I thought that dog was responsible for some reports of attacks we’d had—”

“Folks, let’s get back to the debate.” Benny tapped his microphone to make more noise.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Benny Longstreet. I used to hire you to mow my yard.” Elaine yelled. “I bet Deputy Dean would have investigated a little to find out what was going on instead of shooting my damn dog so he could leave to go fishing in Galveston.”

“I’m voting for Deputy Dean because he stopped and helped me when I was stranded on the highway because I had a flat tire on my van,” Lulu Dillahunty yelled. “Sheriff Joey has never stopped to help me, even though I lived across the street from him for forty years.”

Joey’s face turned even redder, and his lips flapped open and closed. He glanced at Benny, motioning for him to get control of the crowd. Benny gave him a miserable shrug as the crowd shouted at the stage.

“Hey, folks, let’s show a little respect for this process,” Dean said into his microphone. “I think there’s time at the end for the attendees to ask questions. Isn’t there, Benny?”

“Yes, there is.” Showing his huge teeth again, Benny leaned into the microphone to speak. “Next question—”

The crowd quieted, and Felicia Brent Holze picked that moment to strike.

“All you folks who are mad at Sheriff Joey over some silly little incident need to remember one thing: if you elect Dean, you’re getting her too.” She pointed one finger in my direction, and every person in the big room turned to see who sat at the end of Felicia’s nasty, booger-picking finger. “At least my father-in-law has a family of good, church-going Christians behind him and is not intimately involved with a Satanist who practices witchcraft and uses it to put other people in danger.”

Mutters and whispers created a kind of white noise in the room, competing with the roaring between my ears. I pressed my back against the wall, wishing I could be anywhere else, even back in Carl Mahoney’s house of horrors fighting over the curse box. People turned completely around in their seats so they could stare at me, their eyes lit with a nasty, hungry kind of curiosity. I imagined the spectators at the Roman Coliseum wore the same expression. Through the mutters and whispers, a few voices came through loud and clear.

“Well, you know what Julie said happened.”

“I remember the whole business about her saying she saw Adam Kessler’s ghost.”

“No telling what the truth is about her. Might be something to think about tomorrow at the polls.”

Without thinking about what I was doing, I started walking to the front of the room. I felt Hannah’s fingers on my arm for an instant but brushed them off. People shrank away from me, not wanting to get my kind of crazy on them, I guessed. I reached the stage and climbed onto it, ignoring the horror on Dean’s face, and walked over to Benny Longstreet and stared at him until he moved away from the microphone.

“You can’t come up here, Miss Peri Jean,” Sheriff Joey said from behind me. I ignored him, shocked he had the gall to call me “Miss Peri Jean” after all the other things he’d called me over the years.

“I’m sick of people saying untrue shit about me and running around like a bunch of villagers afraid the sky is falling because they don’t know what I am.” Feedback blasted from the speakers, and I lowered my voice. “Let me start with what I’m not. I’m not a Satanist. I’m not out to harm any of you, steal your souls, or cook your kids and eat ‘em. But every rumor has some truth, and I’m not going to sugar coat the truth any more. The truth is I communicate with dead people.”

A collective gasp came from the audience. I wanted to roll my eyes. I’d withstood the rumors all my life, listened to the whispers, tolerated the silly jokes. Why pick this day and this situation to act like they never knew anything was different about me?
Puh-leeze.
People in the back pushed forward, jostling others to get a closer look at my tantrum. I made a point not to look at any of their faces because, if I did, I was afraid I’d shut up and never have the courage to defend myself again.

“What I can do is not bad or evil. It just is. What happened this morning—the thing Julie’s running all over town telling everybody who’ll listen—is something I didn’t expect or plan. It happened because of my connection to the spirit world, and I couldn’t help the way it went down.” I found Julie’s hateful face in the crowd and glared at her, daring her to accuse me of stealing the box. She wouldn’t even look at me.

I felt another stare on me and found Wade Hill’s huge form. He gave me a thumbs-up. I stood a little straighter.

“I am weird. I’ll never deny it.” I waited while a few people laughed and agreed. “But I can do good things with this weirdness inside me, too. Last year, I solved Rae’s murder. A few months ago, I helped solve Dean’s sister’s murder…didn’t I?” I glanced at Dean for confirmation. His face turned red, but he nodded.

“Dean’s sister was missing for twenty years, but her spirit contacted me, and I found where her body had been hidden and exposed her murderer.” I trailed off because I realized the room was so quiet I heard a clock ticking somewhere. Every gaze in the room pinned me in place. Finally, I let myself see them. Some faces wore expressions of disgust or disbelief. Some wore pity. A tiny number wore open, interested expressions. The negative ones hurt more, but I tried to burn the image of the interested ones into my mind. “I’m not a monster. Y’all know I’m not. You’ve lived alongside me. You’ve hired me to work for you. You know I’m honest and good.”

The total silence gave the room a surreal feeling, and I wondered if I was dreaming.

“Here’s the thing you’re all forgetting.” I made myself make eye contact with the people in front of me. “Dean will do the job of sheriff if you elect him…not me. You all know Dean is both a good man and a good law enforcer. He’s honest, he’s kind, and he looks damn good in his uniform.”

A few laughed, and some of the women cheered.

“If you don’t elect Dean because of me, you’re no better than a bunch of junior high kids trying to decide who’s king shit of turd mountain. When you go to the polls tomorrow, decide who’ll do the best job. Voting for or against
me
because of fear and ignorance is the same as voting against yourselves.”

“Or the same as protecting ourselves from a spiritual threat.” Felicia jumped up, both arms raised like an athletic coach lecturing a team.

“See the bracelet on her wrist?” I made sure my voice carried through the room. “It came from the Bearden crime scene. When the Bearden family asked for its return, your sheriff and his son stonewalled them. Think about who you’re voting for and why, folks.”

Sheriff Joey began sputtering and protesting behind me. Felicia screamed a not very nice name at me. Ignoring them both, I blew a kiss at Dean, hopped off the stage, and left the building.

T
he first call
came around seven the next morning.

“Business is slow, hon, and I can’t afford to have you help me today,” said Alice Meeks, owner of the Delectable Dairy Ice Cream Parlor. “Ain’t that I don’t need the help. Folks don’t spend enough money.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me, but damn my naivety to hell, it did. Calls poured in after my short conversation with Alice. Each time my cellphone rang, I flinched, the hollowness inside me growing. This wasn’t after-school money for me. This was how I lived. I wanted to scream at the people telling me they no longer needed my services, to call them sheeple, to tell them I was the same person who’d worked for them on and off for the last few years. There was no point, though. It was what it was.

“How many’s that?” Memaw asked.

“Don’t matter. This’ll free me up to help Hooty and Rainey with election day stuff today. Once the election is over, you and me can spend more time together.” I worked to keep my voice even.

She stared at me, her dark eyes sharp with pity and sorrow. “Fine. I’ll get dressed and ride to town with you.”

I sank onto the couch as soon as she left the room and put my hands over my face, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. I’d done this to myself. Crying wouldn’t help. Oh, but I wanted to do it so badly. There was no way there’d be a full boycott of my services by everybody in Burns County, but enough would blacklist me to prevent me from earning the living I had for the past several years.
What’s next? What do I do next?
My thoughts scrambled into meaningless, hysterical mish-mash. I had no choice other than to go about my business, acting as though everything was superfly, and keeping my eyes and ears open for the next opportunity. Wade mentioned tending bar at Long Time Gone. I’d have to suck up my Texas-sized pride and do it.

Election day passed in a flurry of exhausting hurry up and wait activity, most of it spent outside roasting in the blazing sunshine. The reports we got from early ballot counters said Dean and Sheriff Joey were running neck and neck. Dean kept smiling and slapping backs, but I saw the worry in his eyes. The question would hang in the air until the final votes came in. The polls closed at seven in the evening, and the intensity of the situation multiplied exponentially. Waiting gnawed at me, made my hands twitch and my muscles ache. We huddled together in an old storefront Dean rented for the campaign all of us drinking too much coffee and trying to pretend it wasn’t making us irritable. Around ten, the phone rang, and Dean answered.

“I see,” he said. “We’ll be over there shortly.” He hung up the phone and stood with his back to the room for several long minutes. My heart dropped. He’d lost. I knew it. All this effort for nothing. We’d let the campaign drive a wedge between us. Dean would be out of a job tomorrow. I walked across the room, almost afraid to touch him, but knowing I had to do what I could to smooth the way for him.

I stepped up beside him, facing a wall plastered with campaign posters showing his smiling face, and dared to glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I gasped. The wild smile on his face told me I’d been wrong. I gripped his arm in congratulations and tipped my head at the people waiting behind us, the ones who’d worked so hard to make this happen. We turned together. The room erupted into cheers and howls. Rainey rushed at us and grabbed Dean in a hug. The two of them jumped up and down together. She pushed him away from her and beamed at him.

“We did it.” She gave Dean a hard shake. “Oh, we beat that awful man.” She turned to me. “I think your little speech last night tipped the scales. I know it cost you, but I am proud of you, so very proud.”

“Is the sheriff coming by to congratulate you? Or do we just go on down to the courthouse square?” A young teacher from the high school asked.

“The Holze family has gone home for the evening,” Dean said. “Let’s get our stuff together and meet back up at the square.”

People exchanged glances, surprised at Sheriff Joey’s rudeness. I wasn’t a bit surprised.

“Where’s Miss Leticia?” Hooty asked me.

“Sleeping in your RV out back in the alley. It got late for her.” I’d actually forced her to go out there and take a nap, having no idea when we’d be able to get home. “I’ll go wake her and push her to the courthouse in her wheelchair.”

“Better you than me getting her to ride in the wheelchair.”

I rushed to wake Memaw, we argued about her using her wheelchair, but I won out and wheeled her to the town square where a bandstand had been constructed for the winner to make a victory speech.

Dean’s campaign team had already assembled on the stage. Deputy Brittany Watson, who had never wavered in her support of Dean, set out metal folding chairs. Hooty circulated, shaking hands and laughing. Dr. Longstreet stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, grinning more widely than I’d seen him do in a long time.

“What are y’all waiting for?” Deputy Brittany leaned down.

“There’s no ramp.” I walked around the stage for a second time.

“Joey expected to win,” Memaw said. “Nobody in his party needs a ramp.”

She was right. It made me blaze with anger even though we’d won the fight.

“We’ll just stay down here.” I squatted next to Memaw’s chair, sweat squelching behind my knees.

Dean mounted the steps to the bandstand, holding his uniform cowboy hat in both hands. His eyes moved over the audience, looking for me. I waved, and a grin split his face. He moved to the edge of the stage and leaned down.

“Come up here with me,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“No ramp.” I pointed at Memaw.

“You go.” Her rough voice trembled when she spoke. “I have to let you go sometime.”

I turned to her to find tears brimming in her eyes. This was about more than me leaving her side to stand with my man. It was about our time together ending. The grief, embedded deep in my heart, throbbed on cue. I hesitated, glancing between Memaw and Dean.

“We’ll stand with her.” King and Corman Tolliver appeared at my side.

“Go.” Wade walked up behind them. “You belong up there with him.” I stood staring at the three men for a long moment. Leaving Memaw there felt so final.

I kissed Memaw’s cheek and walked to the stage. People had the steps blocked. Dean leaned over them and held out his hand. I took it and let him lift me enough to get a foothold. One hard yank, and I stood beside him, facing the crowd. He kissed me, and a moment of silence gave me time to worry everyone might boo after my little show last night, but then they cheered. Loud. Above them all, I heard Memaw’s booming voice hooting. Dean pulled me to stand with him at the microphone, the flood lights blinding us both. He tapped the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight, and thank you for your votes.” Dean played his good ol’ boy accent to the hilt, drawling over his constants and dropping the endings of some words. “I only hope I can prove myself worthy of your confidence—” The crowd interrupted him with wild cheers.

Dean and I exchanged a glance. My heart swelled at the joy in his face. I gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek, and his constituents hollered even louder.

A dark murmur roiled though the back of the crowd. I squinted into the blinding lights, unable to see what made them switch gears. Dean and I exchanged a worried glance. One woman screamed, then another.

“Stop right there,” Memaw shouted, her words ending in a hacking cough. Gunfire boomed, and the first screams sullied the night.

People ran every which way, their movements like a slow motion film. Deputy Brittany rose from her seat so fast the metal chair fell over, clanging on the wood. She unholstered her pistol and ran to the edge of the stage, squinting her eyes, just as blind as I was. She held her weapon in both hands but didn’t raise it. I didn’t blame her. Though most folks were running for their lives, she’d have never wanted to fire into a crowd of mostly innocent people.

“Memaw? You all right?” I pushed my way to the edge of the stage to look for Memaw, Dean right next to me. He threw one arm out and tried to shove me behind him. I elbowed him aside. Didn’t he understand my grandmother might be hurt? “Memaw?”

Dean, who really was stronger than me, managed to shove me behind him. As he did, a voice came from directly below us.

“Die, witch!” The gun went off again and footsteps smacked against the concrete as whoever did the shooting retreated into the darkness.

Brittany Watson jumped off the stage and disappeared into the darkness screaming, “Backup! I need backup! Deputy Fitzgerald? Where are you?”

Deputy Fitzgerald came from around the side of the stage and ran after Brittany.

Dean stared at me, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. One shaking hand went to a spot on his chest, and he slowly sank to his knees. I dropped next to him, putting my hand over his.

“Help us,” I hollered to nobody in particular, still wondering where Memaw was.

Blood soaked through Dean’s uniform shirt fast, too fast. Wade Hill could save him, same as he saved me on the side of the road. This time I wasn’t too late.

Everything in me went into overdrive. I needed Wade to save Dean. I leapt to my feet and ran to the edge of the stage. “Wade Hill, I need you. Please help me.” My screams ate at the tender lining of my throat with jagged teeth, leaving it raw and burning.

Wade came right away, as though he’d been near all along. He climbed onto the stage as though it was no more than an inconveniently large step.

“Come on. We have to save Dean.” I held my arm out to him, willing him to hurry.

The bright stage lights against the inky night made Wade Hill’s dark eyes unreadable. His still face betrayed no emotion, and his silence chilled me. He pulled me against him, clapping one heavy arm over me. “Just stay here with me. It’ll be all right.”

“He’s bleeding to death,” I twisted in his embrace and yelled into his face, grabbing his arm dragging him with me. He resisted at first, tugging against me, but I turned and yelled, “Memaw says we always help others when they need it, even if we don’t want to. You’re going to help me help Dean.”

He winced and followed willingly, head hanging low. I couldn’t believe he’d be willing to let Dean bleed to death because they didn’t get along. I glanced back, making sure he was still following, and was struck again by the way he slumped and took slow steps. How could helping someone be such a bad thing? We pushed through the semi-circle of people fanned helplessly around Dr. Longstreet and Dean.

“Move!” I yelled at Dr. Longstreet’s back. He turned, eyes widening, and scrambled out of the way.

Wade and I knelt in the puddle of blood spreading around Dean. I put my hands over the bubbling wound on his chest. The black opal against my breastbone began to warm.

“I’m here.” I choked on the words. “I’m gonna save you.” I reached for the power of the black opal, finding its burning light with no problem and latching onto it. The stone heated on my chest, much faster than when it reached out to me. I turned to Wade. “Do it.”

He blinked once, the movement maddeningly slow. “You sure?”

“Yes!” The warm spot began to sting. I tried to brush away the discomfort, but it stayed. Ignoring it, I focused on Dean’s fluttering eyes. He had seconds left. What was Wade’s problem? I nudged him with my elbow.

The spot on my chest where the black opal rested throbbed and ached. I thought I smelled something burning. Maybe my own skin. I reached under my shirt with trembling fingers and found the black opal pendant. Its intent leaked into me, as clear as my own thoughts. It wanted to save Dean, the great-grandson of its previous owner. I closed my fist around the burning stone and used the other hand to grip Wade’s wrist.

He jumped and cried out when the magic poured into him. A hot summer wind rushed over us, and Wade’s skin began to glow from inside. He repeated his words with more force. I concentrated on pumping the black opal’s power into Wade, shaking with the effort it took.

Wade put his hands on Dean, his lips already moving. This time I caught a few of the words, especially when he said, “Live.”

“Stay back, folks,” Dr. Longstreet shouted. I half turned to see a bank of legs standing around us, recognizing both Rainey and Hannah’s fancy high-heeled shoes, along with Hooty’s shiny dress shoes. They were blocking the view of us from anybody still hanging around.

When I brought my attention back to Dean, I saw the blood running out of his chest had slowed to a trickle. I pushed his shirt open, horrified at the hole there. Wade put his hand over the hole, and said his words again, closing his eyes. A vein pulsed in his neck, and he spoke the words again. The bullet came to the surface of Dean’s skin and pushed its way out. It rolled off his skin and clattered to the wood floor of the stage. Someone behind me gasped. I stared at the wound. Blood no longer even trickled from it. Either Dean was dead or we’d done it, saved him. Wade pushed to his feet, shoved his way to the edge of the stage, and fell to his hands and knees to vomit noisily over the side. He stayed in his crouch, shivering all over and rocking back and forth. The pulsing magic slowed its circuit through me and finally faded. Without it to bolster me, a heavy tide of exhaustion rolled in. I slumped and had to hold myself up with one shaking arm.

“I’ll take over.” Dr. Longstreet’s voice came from right next to me. “We need to get him to the hospital immediately. Get more blood in him.”

I felt hands under my arms, pulling me away so the emergency workers could get to Dean. Brittany deposited me next to Wade, who still rocked back and forth at the edge of the stage. She paused for a second, her face so full of pity I thought for a second Dean had died. Then her cousin, Roland, the medic, gave me a thumbs up and a wink. Fatigue pressed down on me, a heavier weight than I’d ever felt. The black opal had helped me, but that much magic flowing through me had taken its toll on both Wade and me. I’d have to worry about Brittany later. I turned to Wade.

“Headache.” He rubbed at his temples and neck, his face so pale his dark beard created a sharp contrast against his face.