Wrong Turn Read online

  I didn’t need liquor. The confession had fuzzed up my brain, made it thick and slow. But I knew one thing for sure. If Freddy Stephens had disposed of Loretta’s body, he’d likely disposed of the book too. I’d have to contact his spirit. If it went as swimmingly as contacting Loretta Nell’s spirit had, Mohawk might not have to come after me. I might already be dead.

  Back to us, Aaron stared at himself in the mirror behind the bar. He spoke to our reflections. "My daddy never trusted Freddy Stephens after that day. He did everything he could to stay away from Stephens Ranch. But the last time I talked to him, he said he was going to have to go out there and see Freddy. He never came back."

  "Why'd you come here, to this awful little town?" I swallowed against the bitterness Aaron's story had made me taste.

  "Inheritance." Aaron's shoulders slumped.

  The conversation was over. Aaron Todd was another waste of time. I got off the barstool. Tanner did the same. I turned back to Aaron, maybe to thank him, maybe to tell him to go to hell, but he was still staring at himself in the mirror. Tanner and I left.

  Tanner drove us out of the Devil’s Dance Roadhouse parking lot without asking me where I wanted to go next. I asked no questions. Contacting Freddy Stephens’s spirit had me worried.

  Aaron had said his father never trusted Freddy Stephens after the day he and the other sheriffs killed Loretta Nell. I didn’t blame him. Freddy seemed to have spent the rest of his life carrying out Loretta Nell’s revenge. Until the night Josie brought Loretta Nell home.

  Thoughts of Freddy slipped from my mind, and I focused again on Josie and her survival. She and Aaron Todd were the last survivors. But Josie had spoken as though it was only Aaron Todd. Why would she exclude herself? It didn’t make sense.

  There was something I wasn’t catching on to, and damned if I could figure out what it was. My scrambled brain repeated one option: contact Freddy Stephens’s spirit. Ask him about the book. After everything I’d seen, I hated to take the risk. But what else could I do?

  Tanner pulled into the motel parking lot. I turned to tell him my plans. Before I could get any words out, he put one hand behind my neck and pressed his lips to mine, his passion fierce enough to hurt.

  "I want you. Now." His breath burned hot against my lips. To punctuate his sentence, he gave my lip a light nibble. I gasped and dug my fingers into his arms. He drew back, eyes burning hot. I drank it in, running one thumb over the stubble on his cheeks. He kissed me again. "Say you want me."

  I breathed in his musky scent and said his words back to him. "I want you. Now."

  He dragged me across the truck, out the door, and into the trashy little motel room. Door barely closed between us and the rest of the world, he kissed me harder than before, arms wrapped so tight around me I could barely breathe. He let go and tugged my flimsy tank top out of my jeans. I raised my arms and let him pull it over my head.

  Tanner needed this right now. Facing losing me, maybe his own death, and dealing with an asshole like Aaron Todd had washed every bit of cool Zen king off him. He needed me to belong to just him right then. And I needed to be wanted that way.

  He tangled one hand in my hair, pulled my head back, and kissed my throat openmouthed, his teeth grazing the tender skin. We moaned together.

  He shifted his grip, lifted me, and tossed me onto the bed. I moved to undress, but he brushed my hands away and yanked off my clothes. By the time I lay naked on the thin sheets, my breath came in ragged gasps. Tanner stood over me, still fully dressed.

  I stared into his eyes, finding all the things I loved about him. The warmth. The kindness. And the passion. I held open my arms to him. "Come here."

  Smiling, he crawled onto the bed, his clothes rasping against my bare skin. I twined my arms around his neck. His lips tasted like cigarette smoke and hops from the beer. He worked his way down my body, sucking and nibbling.

  I propped my head on the pillow and watched him, mesmerized at the contrast of his tawny skin against my deep olive, at the way his tongue left wet trails on my belly. And how my body felt hot enough to melt. His mouth found my hipbone. I jerked and cried out. Raising his eyes to mine, he gripped one ankle in each hand and planted them on his shoulders.

  Body quivering with anticipation, I opened myself to him. We watched each other while his tongue teased, and my breaths sharpened. I reached for his hand. He took it off my ankle and twined his fingers through mine. Body stiffening, I screamed loud enough I'm sure Dwight heard me in his office.

  The sound of Tanner's zipper going down broke the rhythm of my gasps. I raised myself on my elbows and murmured, "Just pull down your pants."

  He did what I said and climbed between my legs, pulling them around his waist.

  "Squeeze me," he whispered.

  The whole world narrowed down to our breath mingling, our eyes locked. With maddening slowness, his lips brushing mine, he slid into me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and screamed again.

  Bodies sliding together, we made promises neither of us could keep. The ticking clock ceased to matter. All that mattered was spending time with the man I loved.

  Afterward, we lay naked on the rumpled mess we’d made of the sheets, sweat drying on our bodies. Tanner ran one finger through the beads of moisture.

  "This is us together," he whispered.

  I nodded. The feeling of us together was so big right then it ached. It wasn’t just the lovemaking, though that helped. It was the rightness between us all the other times. I wanted to tell him I loved him, even if it ended ten minutes from now. I wanted him to know how much this time with him had meant.

  Tanner cut off any words I might have said. "Was I too forceful? Tell me if I was."

  I shook my head.

  He blew out a breath. "I don’t get jealous, but the way Aaron looked at you, like it was a done deal." He frowned. "And the way you looked at him."

  With one hand, I caressed his cheek. "You matter more than he ever could. Guys like Aaron Todd are a waste of time. Aaron only cares about Aaron. Women want him because they think they can be The One who’ll make him change. But he never will." I continued caressing Tanner’s hot, damp skin. "You, on the other hand, are worth every second I spend with you. I wish it could be like this all the time, every day." I slid one hand down his ribs.

  He closed his eyes, but then opened them right away. "Yeah?"

  I nodded. "More than you know." A little of the worry lifted. I’d been wrong for wanting to take care of this book business all by myself. Tanner not only helped, he might end up saving my life. Or at least my sanity. He deserved better than me.

  Tanner sat up. "I want a shower. Come with me?"

  I deadpanned at him, "If we’re going to find this book, we’re going to have to get to work. Go. And hurry."

  Tanner padded into the bathroom. I waited until the shower turned on to text Hannah. "Tanner gets my RV and my truck. And half my money. Give the other half to Finn and Dillon."

  Her message came back a few seconds later. "Going that well?"

  "Even better." I sent a sad face.

  Her message consisted of two words. "Love you."

  Mine was one. "Same."

  The shower cut off, and I took my turn, rushing. I tried putting makeup over the bruise forming on my forehead from Winslow’s roughing me up at the mental hospital. My efforts only made it look worse. Finally, I wiped off the concealer and slapped on my usual heavy eye makeup, which Hannah called tramp tracks.

  I found Tanner sitting on the bed, smoking and using my laptop. He glanced at me. "What’s the plan?"

  “All I know to do is contact Freddy Stephens’s spirit. And I don’t want to.” I sat down next to Tanner and rubbed at my tightening shoulders until he took up the cause.

  “Then don’t. Let’s try to approach it from another direction.” Tanner’s hands kneaded the muscles.

  I moaned as he hit a particularly tender spot. “The only other direction we have is Aaron Todd. Why does the last survivo
r need to be dead? Why is he key? I don’t understand how Aaron Todd is holding anything or anybody back."

  "That story Aaron told about what those sheriffs did to Loretta Nell? I mean, I can see why her spirit wants revenge." Tanner rubbed harder.

  I hung my head, moved with the rhythm of Tanner’s massaging, and thought about what he’d said. "Then maybe it’s not about him holding her back but a meaningful sacrifice." That still didn’t sound right.

  "Or maybe he knew more about the whereabouts of the book than he said." Tanner stopped rubbing and gave me a light pat. "So what are we doing next?"

  “We can go beat more information out of Aaron Todd or find where Freddy’s buried and make contact." I still didn’t feel too confident about contacting Freddy’s spirit.

  Tanner moved away from me and picked up the laptop. "While you showered, I researched Freddy Stephens." He moved the laptop so I could see the screen. "I think Freddy was using the book somehow." He tapped a few buttons, and a news article came up. The title was "Devil’s Rest Jail the Deadliest in Texas?"

  The article, written for a college newspaper, chronicled a series of odd deaths starting in 1975.

  "Not too long after the Messengers met their grisly end," I said in a dramatic TV-announcer voice.

  The article went into a great deal of detail about jail cell suicides, usually of transients, of which there seemed to be many. It made sense.

  A town like Devil’s Rest would attract its share of seekers. The town’s name alone was bait. The Messengers just made it worse. I thought about the way I’d been treated at Phil’s, Home of the World Famous Monkey Burger. Had those people been carrying out a celebrated Devil’s Rest tradition above and beyond anything to do with the Messengers? I shivered.

  "You cold?" Tanner rubbed his hands over my arms.

  "Mmm." I read a little further. Freddy Stephens had been the arresting officer for all but a few of the dead people. Aaron’s father had arrested those.

  "Those were sacrifices," I muttered. "Freddy and that other guy, Aaron’s father, made them under the influence of the book."

  "Maybe." Tanner got off the bed to put on his boots. "Or maybe killing Loretta Nell and the other Messengers just taught them they liked taking human lives." He held out my cowboy boots. "What do you want to do?"

  “I don’t want to contact Freddy Stephens’s spirit.” I slid the boots onto my feet. "After what happened with Loretta Nell, and what you’ve found out here, I’m afraid of what will happen." My face heated at my cowardice.

  "I wouldn’t do it either." Tanner pulled himself onto the dresser. It gave a loud pop under his weight. His eyes widened, and we both laughed.

  "I’ve got four options." I began ticking them off on my fingers. "I can contact Freddy’s spirit. I can contact Aaron’s father’s spirit. We can go whip Aaron Todd’s ass and see if he’ll tell us more. Or we can use non-magical methods to figure out what happened to the stuff in Freddy’s house." I was leaning toward the last one. "Freddy probably wasn’t expecting to die that night. He didn’t have time to hide the book. So whatever happened to the rest of the stuff in the house probably happened to the book."

  Tanner lowered his head in thought. "Could be hidden somewhere in the house. Or some scavengers could have picked it up. If it's the latter, we’ll never find it."

  "I say no to scavengers. Mohawk would be satisfied if someone else had found the book. All he wants is for his creation to be causing mayhem and murder." I got off the bed and picked up my keys from the table. "Mandy Drake is going to help us again."

  "She’s scary. Pass." Despite his objection, Tanner followed me out of the room and got into the truck next to me.

  I was halfway back to downtown Devil’s Rest before I spoke again. "Mandy’s not half as scary as me."

  "I’ll second that," Tanner muttered behind one hand. I poked his ribs where it tickled. He squirmed away from me.

  The library, with only ten more minutes to be open, had no patrons. Mandy sat at the circulation desk, her attention focused on her computer screen. She didn’t move when the entry chime dinged. Tanner and I stood at the circulation desk.

  "Hi Mandy," I said to get her attention.

  She jumped and peeked around her screen. "Oh, hi. How’s the search for your book going?"

  "I haven’t given up yet. You got a minute for another question?"

  She shrugged.

  "After Freddy and family were dead and Josie was in custody, what happened to the stuff in the house?" I tried to keep any urgency off my face. Tanner’s feelings about Mandy resonated big time. No matter how nice she acted, I didn’t trust her.

  "The contents of the house were auctioned off. Josie was the last Stephens, so the property legally went to her. But she’d been declared mentally incapacitated, so an aunt on her mother’s side of the family arranged the sale of the property and contents. I think they used it for her legal defense." Mandy smiled, but it wasn’t the greedy, salacious smile that had scared Tanner and me when we first met her. This one was normal. I relaxed a little.

  "Does a record exist of the items auctioned off?" I leaned on the counter.

  Mandy frowned and held up one finger. "I can’t believe I never thought of looking that up. That would be an awesome topic for our discussion group." She began clicking on the keyboard. Her shoulders sagged after a few seconds. "No. It was a private auction. Would you like the name of the auctioneer? He’s local."

  "Yes. Thank you." I grabbed a flyer for a library book sale and flipped it over to write on the back.

  Mandy gave me an odd look, like she might want to scold me for wasting a flyer, but then just read off the address.

  A few minutes later, Tanner and I were back in the truck. The auctioneer, a Jeb Pugh, lived only a mile from the library.

  "Running around in circles," Tanner muttered as he drove.

  "I'm gonna figure out how to turn it around. I promise." I concentrated on my promise as though that made it more likely to come true.

  11

  Darkness had fallen by the time we got to Jeb Pugh’s house. Though Pugh lived only a few blocks from Aaron Todd’s spiffy bungalow, his house was the polar opposite of Aaron’s.

  To start with, Jeb Pugh’s vintage house was a late nineteen-seventies ranch house. Nothing cute about that. To make matters worse, Jeb had let his house go. Dirt dulled the red bricks. Black mildew streaked the sidewalk leading to the front door.

  Tanner and I both had to leave the sidewalk to edge around a knockout rose bush so neglected it had only a few leaves. The concrete floor of the postage stamp-sized porch was so black with mildew it could have been paint. I rang the doorbell and was rewarded with the sound of shoes slapping on a hard floor. The door opened, and bright light beamed out on the gloomy entryway.

  A man wearing square wire-framed bifocals gave us a trusting smile. "Help you young folks?"

  I stared in shock. I had expected someone unkempt, with dirty clothes and maybe body odor. This guy, with his carefully trimmed white hair, and his tucked-in checkered shirt didn’t fit the house. "Yes, sir. I’m Peri Jean Mace, and this is my boyfriend, Tanner Letts. We need to ask you about an auction you performed some time back."

  Pugh’s smile dimmed but stayed in place. I took that as a hopeful sign. Sure enough, he stepped back and held the door open. "Why don’t you come inside? Mosquitos’ll set up a dictatorship if I stand here with the door open much longer."

  Tanner and I followed Jeb Pugh down an entry hall with outdated linoleum. It opened into a combination living room and dining room with a too-big table. In the living room part, a woman with a fluff of short, cottony hair sat in a recliner with her feet up. She worked the lever to put down the footrest.

  "Oh, company. You should have warned me, Jebediah." She stood and used both hands to smooth down her light blue slacks.

  I glanced at the clock on my phone and winced. These folks were probably just about to go to bed. "We’re sorry to have disturbed you so late, ma’
am. We’ve got a few questions for Mr. Pugh, and he invited us inside."

  Jeb Pugh motioned at the heavy dining table. "I’m Jeb. Not Mr. Pugh. Y’all have a seat."

  The lady joined us and held out one arthritis-swelled hand to me. "I’m Cheryl Pugh."

  I shook her hand. "Peri Jean Mace and Tanner Letts."

  Cheryl Pugh practically pushed me into a chair. She sat down at the far end of the table. "Jeb, you’re not going to get them something to drink?"

  "Now Cheryl, I ain’t had the chance to see what they want." Jeb’s voice raised, but the smile never left his face. "Coke? Milk and cookies? That is what I’m going to have."

  "Milk and cookies," Tanner agreed before I could speak. I glanced at him and realized I’d forgotten to eat again. Poor man was probably starving.

  Pugh went into the kitchen, rattled around a bit, and came out holding a tray with four tall glasses of milk and a box of store-bought iced oatmeal cookies. He set out the refreshments and took a seat at the head of the table. Tanner immediately grabbed a handful of cookies, pulled his milk to him and went to work. Both Pughs watched with amusement.

  "I’m guessing you folks want to ask about the Stephens auction." The good humor left Jeb’s eyes with the words, but he didn’t seem angry as many of the town folks did when the topic of Devil’s Rest’s true crime history came up.

  I nodded that we had.

  "What do you need from me?" Jeb watched me steadily.

  As soon as I’d seen Jeb Pugh, I’d known candor would be the best approach. I took out the bedraggled picture of Loretta Nell Grimes holding the book and slid it across the table. I waited until Jeb Pugh picked up the picture to speak.

  "I need to find that book. I’ve gotten in trouble with…someone bad. Both Tanner and I are in danger." I threw a glance at Tanner, silently asking what he thought of me just laying it all out.

  He was so busy with his cookies, he barely shrugged.

  Jeb stared at the picture some more. "Where’d you get this?"