Page 45 of Dark Obsession

Andy lowered himself into the seat, but remained leaning over the table. In the dim lighting from behind the bar, his eyes looked dark and hard, lips curled into a sneer as he jabbed a finger down on the table. “You want to toss around names, let’s do that. I know who you are, Critter Catcher, and I know what you’ve done for our town. But what would you do if you were me? Huh? If someone you cared about, one of your brothers maybe, or your husband, complained for a few days about feeling fluish, but then up and vanished without a word, leaving their phone and wallet behind. What would you do, huh? What would you do if you sometimes woke up at night certain you could still hear them laughing? And where would you be if this was the only place you knew to come to for answers? Huh, football star? What would you do?”

Cody’s breath caught. “You’re hearing her laugh at night?”

Andy took another look around before sinking back against the cushion. “Leave me alone,” he said. His voice was drained of emotion.

“It’s not her, man. Don’t let her inside.”

“Fuck off!”

The shout sent a shock through Cody. He drained his beer and carefully set the empty on the table. “Okay, I hear you.”

“Finally.”

“And I understand your position, I do. I’d do the same thing if our roles were reversed. But you shouldn’t do it alone. Call us if you want help. You know we understand this kind of business.”

Andy’s expression softened a bit. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now leave me alone.”

Cody flashed a tight smile before he stood. He gave Marlowe a single nod then turned for the door.

“Drive safe,” she said, then added, “Stretch.”

The back of his neck prickled with the weight of everyone’s eyes on him as he lifted his hand without looking back and pushed through the door and outside. He was slightly light-headed, and his thoughts jumped and scattered, like when he used to hit the scan button on the radio in his parents’ station wagon.

The sun had set while he’d been inside, and its dying rays painted the clouds banked in the west with fiery yellows and oranges. He crossed the gravel lot, his steps quick, hand in his pocket clutching the cross against his sweaty palm. Engines growled in the distance, growing louder until three men on motorcycles pulled into the lot. None of them wore helmets, and they were all bald with tattoos across their scalps. They turned to look right at him as they rolled past, the rumble of the engines seeming to echo inside his chest.

The motorcycles cut off one by one, and when Cody reached the truck, he glanced over his shoulder. All three men sat astride their bikes about ten yards away, staring at him.

He almost fumbled the key fob, but managed to hang onto it and unlocked the door. Before getting inside, he grabbed a spray bottle filled with garlic water from the tackle box. He placed it in the cup holder and pulled the door shut, hitting the lock button.

A deep laugh from the biker trio sent a rush of heat to his cheeks. He kept his eyes down as he started the engine then put the truck in gear and drove fast down the drive. Gravel pinged against the truck’s undercarriage and wheel wells until he turned onto Hemlock Way and sped off toward Route 118.

The cornfields stretched out to either side of the road, endless and unnerving in the final light of day. Anything could be out there, waiting. Hungry. When he turned onto 118, he was able to breathe a little easier. Sitting back, he let both hands slide to the bottom of the wheel. His shoulders dropped slightly, but he still kept checking his mirrors.

A mile or so past Hemlock Way, another car passed him going in the opposite direction. It was Zenona’s dark green Subaru, and she was behind the wheel. She didn’t even glance his way, and he eased his foot off the gas, his eyes on the side mirror where he could see her taillights.

A short time later, her brake lights flashed, and then Zenona turned left off Route 118 and onto Hemlock Way.