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“You might be surprised how many are lurking in these older communities.” She pulls the goggles off her face and wipes a hand across her upper lip. “It’s getting hot out here.”
“It’s the humidity, and you’re in all that.” I motion to her getup. “We could take a break and come back this afternoon.”
“When it’s even hotter?” Her nose wrinkles as she shakes her head. “No thanks. I’m almost finished, then I think we need to talk to some of the old-timers. They’re usually the best place to start if you’re looking for an unusual character.”
“Old-timers.” I almost laugh at her word choice. “I’m probably an old-timer to you.”
“You definitely are not.” She squints one eye in almost a wink.
Damn, she’s pretty, even in all that canvas with her hair on top of her head, and a red goggle-ring around her eyes. I know what she’s hiding under that getup. She’s small and smart and fucking sexy.
“I’m seven years older than you.” I say it as much to remind myself as her.
“Oh, I’m going way farther back than seven years.” She quickly packs up her things. “I’m going to start with my grandmother.”
CHAPTER6
BRITT
“Hello, darling.” My mother waltzes through the sitting area of her Star Parlor. “To what do I owe this visit? And what on Earth are you wearing?”
I glance down at my green, canvas jumpsuit, a drab contrast to her red velvet pants with leopard inlays down the sides. Her curly, caramel-brown hair hangs in a cloud of spirals around her cheeks, and she’s tied a scarf over the crown of her head, with the ends hanging over her shoulder.
Her white top is scoop-necked and sleeveless, and she has a filmy shawl around her bare arms, which end in gold bangles. Rings are on most of her fingers.
It’s her standard tarot-reader getup, although to me, she looks like she escaped from the cast of the Broadway musicalHair.
“We’re both in our work clothes,” I tease. “I’m actually here because Gran wasn’t in her office.”
I walk over to the small, round table covered in a paisley-patterned, silk scarf. A gold-foil tarot deck is halved in the center, and I slide my finger over the card facing up. It’s the Knight of Swords, which means you’re highly driven and ambitious. He’s in the upright position, which means a change is coming.
I can’t help wondering if she put him in that position for my benefit, alsodang, I know way too much about this stuff.
“That’s not a very complimentary way to frame a visit.” She’s pouting, and I look up, trying to think of what I said to hurt her feelings. “You have a ring around your face.”
“What?” I turn to the mirror behind me, and sure enough, an unflattering red line in the shape of my work goggles is on my forehead and cheeks.
Heat climbs up my neck when I realize I was walking around like this in the field just now with Aiden. Aiden, who looked like a Greek god in his short-sleeved khaki shirt that hugged his broad chest and biceps, and those dark uniform pants that squeezed his ass and toned thighs. I was sweaty from the sun and my long sleeves and pants, but looking at him made my insides slippery as well.
Now, realizing I looked like Dr. Benson Honeydew with a red line around my face is a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.
“Can’t be helped now.” I exhale heavily, walking over to where my mother stands and giving her a quick hug. “Sorry, I am glad to see you, and thanks for getting the apartment ready for me.”
“You can always come back and stay in your room if you get too lonely.” I smile, but don’t take the bait on that one.
When she sees I’m not going to respond, she drops with a flourish onto the gold velvet sofa near the fireplace. “How can I help my beautiful daughter?”
“You heard about what happened to Terra Belle’s pickle patch? Sheriff Stone thinks teenagers tried to recreate those crop circles from that movieSigns, but I dug a little deeper. I think it’s something else entirely.”
“I’m not surprised. Aiden Stone has zero intuition.” Her hazel eyes roll as she shakes her head. “This is exactly why I wanted you to come home. The crime in Eureka is out of control.”
“Right.” I walk over to sit beside her, taking out my 35 mm digital camera and angling it so we can both see the images. “These pictures are of the tire tracks left by the getaway vehicle. It’s clear from the treads it was a three-wheeler.”
“A three-wheeler?” She places her hand on the camera and leans closer. “I thought those had been illegal for a long time.”
“They have, which narrows our search a lot. We’re looking for someone who’s had one since 1989.”
“That’s more than thirty years ago! Would it still run?”
