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“Saw your car. And that reminded me. There were a few messages for ya, on Saturday. From some girl.”
I gripped the edge of my desk with both hands. “Why didn’t you call my personal cell? By girl, do you mean a woman? Was it Nova Nesbitt?”
“Well, I didn’t get the messages until this morning. But yeah, I think that’s the name she said in her message.”
“Roland! You’re on-call. That means you have to answer the phone when it rings. How hard is that to understand? What if it was an emergency?”
Roland shrugged, that lopsided smile coming back. “So, shoot me. It was an honest mistake.” His face flickered with anger on the word shoot.
His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. He’d probably been down at Mick’s Lounge when the calls came in. Roland and some of the other guys spent their free time at Mick’s, or Prissy’s, the strip club on I-90. Sometimes they spent their on-the-clock hours there too. They weren’t all bad guys, but Roland was definitely the worst in the group. He’s the reason some male cops get bad raps, I thought, shaking my head.
In a town where there were more bars than restaurants, and the closest thing to a strip mall was a strip club with a Dollar Tree attached, what could I really expect? Twenty-five years ago, Roland was playing football, or some other meathead sport that made him look cool, while I was being ignored and/or teased by guys just like him. Now he was just an older, fatter version of himself, but he had the power and authority that came with being a cop.
“Welp, if it was an emergency, she should have called 911. Anyway, she mentioned your name in the message, so I thought I’d pass it along. Something about a dispute with the husband and kid? Sounds like a domestic dispute that the courts should be handling…”
My jaw clenched. It was a terrible habit that often resulted in midnight migraines.
I clicked my computer screen off and gathered up my bag and keys, then I locked the door to my office behind me, nudging him aside with my purse.
I was going to walk out, but then I changed my mind. Turning around, I narrowed my eyes at Roland.
“You know what? I’ll take that on-call cell phone,” I snapped.
Another shrug. “Hey, that works for me.” He took the cell phone out of his back pocket and held it over my head, just out of reach. You must be fucking kidding me. I was far from petite, but I hadn’t grown an inch since middle school. Roland’s six-foot frame towered over my five-foot two-inches.
My fist struck the center of his abdomen and he let out a groan. Bent at the waist, I grabbed the cell phone as it clattered on the floor by my feet.
Roland looked up at me, smiling as he clutched his waistline. His cheeks were the color of cherry blossoms. “You got a thing for picking on other officers, don’t you? Maybe I should report you to the sarge for assault…”
“Go right ahead.”
Unlike some of the guys, Sergeant DelGrande was more supportive of me.
Moments later, I roared out of the parking lot, cussing myself for letting Roland get to me…and for not writing my personal cell number on the back of the business card I gave to Nova. The card had my office extension on it and the on-call number. But if she’d tried my office yesterday, then it would have just rung and rung, eventually going straight to voicemail.
Wildly, I drove around the twisty inclines of the Appalachians, afraid of what I might find. What if Nova found her daughter on the property and I wasn’t there to help? Images of bloody, bloated toddlers sliced through my head like razors. What if her husband showed up and tried to hurt her? I clenched my teeth together so hard I could almost hear the enamel cracking.
Someone should have been there to take her call, dammit!
Despite the beauty of the rugged, flat-topped highlands and majestic mountain ridges that seemed to reach the sun, the town itself looked like an ashtray. Like there was some sort of smoking giant, flicking its filth all over the city, and onto the people who lived here.
The houses were taped together, some barely standing. Boarded up windows and sagging roofs. Windows plastered shut with cardboard or old blankets. And the rivers and creeks were so full of garbage you couldn’t swim or fish. It seemed so wrong to see so much poverty amongst such a beautiful backdrop, but this town was poor. Most of its income came from tourism in the summer and springtime, thanks to hikers and ATV enthusiasts.
I couldn’t breathe when I pulled up in front of the house. Please let Nova be okay…I can’t afford to make another mistake that keeps me ostracized even more by my peers…
The cabin was quiet and dark, and there was something off about the place as soon as I put my cruiser in park.
I approached the cabin, taking in more details than I had on my first visit.
The grass was a soupy wasteland after last night’s rain and mosquitoes buzzed around my pant legs as I made my way up to the door.
I could still see Nova, the way she’d looked two days ago, desperation in her eyes as she ran out to meet me in her robe. She’d been so scared…but I didn’t know what to do for her then. And I still didn’t, I realized.
I knocked softly at first. But then, when no one came to answer, I gave the door a hard, authoritative rap. Her Celica was parked in the same spot it had been the night before.
There were two windows on either side of the front door. I tried to peek through both, eager to spot some sort of movement through the off-white curtains. Nothing. A sick feeling rose in my stomach.
Slowly, I moved around the right side of the house, looking in side windows and peeking in the car as I passed it.
Maybe Nova was still asleep? After all, it was Sunday. Most people, besides church-goers like my mom and her parish, liked to sleep in on the weekends. I silently prayed that that was the case with Nova.
As I reached the backside of the cabin, I immediately noticed that the back door was ajar. A tiny sliver of light peeped out through the crack.
I knocked harder, jarring the door, and I willed myself to be patient. I’d never barged into anyone’s house before, and I didn’t want to start now. Without a warrant, I had no business letting myself inside.
But if something horrible had happened to her…if that dangerous husband of hers had showed up…then it was on me for not taking her more seriously.
“Nova?” I shout-whispered through the crack.
I put my hand on the knob and nudged the door open a few more centimeters. “It’s Officer Ellie James. I need to follow up with you.”
There were no sounds of movement inside and I couldn’t see anything through the crack besides the tiny bit of light coming from the kitchen.
“I’m coming in, ma’am,” I warned. The proper protocol would be to call for some sort of back-up, or at the very least, take out my firearm. But the last thing I wanted was to call the very colleagues who didn’t trust me, and probably wouldn’t have my back anyway.
“Damn you, Nova,” I mumbled, stepping back from the door. Clumsily, I unholstered my pistol and flipped the safety off. I gripped it in my right hand, praying I wouldn’t need to use it ever again…
“Nova, I’m coming in now.” I kicked the door and was instantly met with some sort of resistance.
“What the hell?” I nudged it again with my foot, grunting against whatever weight was pushed up behind it. There was something heavy laying on the other side of the door.
I couldn’t get in the house without squeezing through the crack, and I wasn’t sure what—or who—was behind the door. I took a deep breath and pushed my face up against the crack, trying to see what was jamming up the entranceway.
Instantly, I recognized the black duffel bag. It was the same one I’d seen laying in the middle of the kitchen floor the first time I’d met with Nova. But why was it so heavy? It was almost like it was filled with stones.
Using both hands, including the one with the gun, I gave the door another hard shove. The bag scooted forward a few inches, just enough for me to slip inside the cabin.
I called out for her three more times, then entered the kitchen. Glancing down at the bag, I saw that it was open and filled with hard, fist-sized rocks. Tentatively, I bent down to get a closer look. The rocks were smooth and all the same size.
Next to the rocks were three cylindrical containers with metal latches on top. They were empty but had some scummy red marks around the lids. What the hell?
I gripped the gun in both hands now, my voice shaky as I called out again, “It’s Officer Ellie James, and I’m coming in.” How many times am I going to say that? I wondered, clenching and unclenching my jaw. As I scooted, little by little, across the kitchen floor, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something was seriously wrong here, I could feel it in my bones…
It only took a few more seconds to find out what it was. I gasped as I entered the living room, instantly lowering my gun. A puddle of blood, wide as a coy pond, and so red it was almost purple, spread out from the center of the floor. My body swayed and shook as I stared at tiny white fragments at my feet. Kneeling for a closer look, I discovered the fragments were bone. Not just bone—they looked like human teeth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Neighbor
CLARA
In a perfect world, the FBI would have showed up at my rental property. But the blood had gone dry by the time two experts showed up to process the scene, and let’s face it: the FBI doesn’t give a damn about people in Northfolk.
I waited outside next to Officer James’ police car, smoking a Camel. I’d gone all night without a cigarette, but this incident gave me the perfect excuse to fire one up. Smoke filled my lungs, sending little shocks of warmth to my head and my toes.
Officer Ellie James had asked me to stay. After all, I owned the cabin that was now the scene of a crime.
Leaning against the hood of my tenant’s car, I puffed while watching the chaos around me unfold.
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