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“That’s wonderful! I’ll tell your grandmother. You can stay here until you find your own place.”
I have a better idea. “Is the loft above the Star Parlor still vacant?”
A bright little one-bedroom living space is located above my mother’s tarot-reading studio. She used to rent it out after my dad died to make some extra money, but not enough people move to Eureka to maintain a short-term rental.
“It is, but nobody’s lived there for a while. It needs to be cleaned and aired out and checked for pests.”
“You do that today, and I’ll let you know when I’m on the road.”
“Okay,” she pouts, but I’m not swayed.
If I’m going back to Eureka, things are going to be different. I have a life and a career, and as much as I love my family, I’m not interested in living their free-spirited, unreliable life.
I live in the real world. I’m not making my decisions based on magic anymore.
CHAPTER3
AIDEN
Who watches over you?The sign is hand-lettered neatly in canary-blue on a narrow strip of white wood. It’s nailed to the utility pole outside the courthouse, and I cross my arms, silently reading and re-reading the message.
“Is it a protest sign?” Doug stands beside me scratching the gray hairs on the back of his neck. “Are they implying we’re not watching the town?”
We’re both in short sleeves, and he’s wearing his hat to shield the top of his balding head from the sun. Even though it’s March, it never gets very cold in Eureka, and the sun is almost always shining.
“I don’t think it’s about us.”
“You want me to take it down?”
My hands are on my hips, and I shake my head. “Leave it.”
I have no idea who’s doing this, but they’re essentially positive messages. They started a little over three months ago with a single word,Happiness,painted in dark pink lettering on a thin strip of white board. They resemble the pickets from a fence.
I haven’t been able to figure out any reason for them, no pattern or connection to particular dates. It’s like someone has a dream or gets an idea on a random day, and up goes a sign. Naturally, Edna is reading supernatural meanings into them.
We leftHappinessup, and after a few weeks, it disappeared and another one took its place in a different location. I forget what it said, but the last one read,You are rare,in dark purple lettering.
It was hung near the only restaurant in Eureka, El Rio owned by Herve Garcia, and I had to wonder if it was a joke. For starters, Herve is one of the first to integrate Eureka, but he also makes a steak taco that will haunt your dreams at night—cooked rare.
“It’s Sunday, so maybe it’s a reference to God?” Doug is still puzzling, but the sound of Shania Twain singing about feeling like a woman coming from behind us distracts me from this latest missive.
The music is getting louder fast, and I look up just in time to see a beat-up orange Ford truck barreling around the corner with no sign of stopping.
In a blink, I register three things: The truck is headed straight for us, the driver’s eyes are wide, and Doug isn’t looking or moving.
“Doug!” Grabbing my deputy around the waist, I tackle him to the ground behind his SUV, and with a crunch of metal, the truck plows into the utility pole.
Shit. I’m on my feet at once, expecting the worst. I pause briefly to be sure Doug’s okay. He’s shaking his head, but he’s not hurt. Then I hustle around to check on the runaway truck.
The driver’s door opens with a loud pop, and a young woman in a white T-shirt, denim cutoffs, and cowboy boots stumbles out shaking her hands and walking in circles.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” she chants, and a big dog barks from inside the cab. “Edward!”
She dives into the vehicle again, climbing across the seat and unfastening the buckle that holds the hound in place.
My eyes narrow as I approach the vehicle. “Miss…?”
She backs out of the cab so fast she slams right into my chest. A little “Oof!” poofs from her lips, and the dog jumps out beside her, barking and trotting back and forth beside the truck as if to inspect the damage.
