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It bothered him that they hadn’t caught up with it that day they’d gone to the grocery store. The car had disappeared somewhere in Aberdeen or along the way to Cooper Springs. Martin had especially hated that Nick had been reluctant to tell him about his suspicions because others had dismissed his concerns.
Sweat dripped into his eye, distracting him from his thoughts. Roofing was hard work. His gym-built muscles were feeling it. Swiping the sweat off his forehead, he glanced over to where Nick had his back to him, working just a few feet away.
Yeah, Martin didn’t have a label for what was happening between the two of them, and that was just fine. He had no problem taking things as they came. There was no hurry, no need to rush anything.
From where they were occupied with putting finishing the touches on the second to last cabin roof, they had a front-row seat to the arrival of the news vans. The second circus ring.
“What the fuck is this now?” Nick said.
Martin assumed that was a rhetorical question because the lettering on the side of the van made it clear it was from a news station. Tucking his hammer into his tool belt, Martin straightened up and peered toward the police station before answering the question anyway. “That looks to be the news.”
“The news,” Nick spat out, as if saying a dirty word.
“It was bound to get out. And besides, someone is missing a loved one,” he reasoned. “With any luck, someone will see the report and come forward.”
Cooper Springs had started its reeling with Lizzy Harlow’s murder, and CSPD still had no leads on that one. With the discovery of the skull, and the continued missing status of Blair Cruz, gossips had to be whispering the wordsserial killer. Martin himself hadn’t heard anyone saying it yet, but they were. The situation had to have Chief Dear on edge.
“These folks aren’t reporting news, they’re looking to sensationalize something terrible and make money off it,” Nick said bitterly.
As jaded as his opinion was, Martin agreed. Together they watched as the team, a reporter and a camera operator, emerged from the van. As they approached the front door of the police station, two things happened; another news van pulled up behind the first one and Chief Dear stepped out of the building. Of course, he and Nick couldn’t hear what was being said from their vantage point, but Dear’s body language was loud and clear:Fuck off. Martin wondered if maybe the mayor was a better choice for a press conference.
“Ho, boy, he looks pissed,” Nick observed with glee.
Dear did indeed look pissed. After making his point, Dear swiveled and stormed into the building. His departure didn’t cause the reporters to pack up and head back to wherever they’d come from. Instead, they began setting up on either side of the front steps, clearly planning to do their broadcasts from there.
“I wish I knew what they were saying,” Martin said.
“We know what they’re saying. ‘Blah blah blah, serial killer on the loose, blah blah.’ And that’s all anyone is going to hear.”
The CSPD entrance opened again, and one of the earlier arrivals emerged and began speaking to the waiting newscasters. Martin squinted, as if that would help bring the faraway figure into focus. It didn’t.
“We could just go find out what’s going on,” Nick pointed out. “Click and Clack can finish up. They’re getting paid after all.”
Martin snorted, and absolutely did not glance over at the two guys from the town of Hoodsport that he’d hired to help him with the remodel. They seemed to know what they were doing, which was the point of hiring them. They were also Star Wars, Star Trek, and Stargate nerds who spent most of the time arguing the finer nuances of each world as they worked.Fantasy worlds,Martin wanted to point out to them. But they worked while they argued, so Martin had held his tongue.
“Better yet,” Nick continued, “we could head over to the pubnow—and save the shower for later—because I guarantee you Rufus is already in the loop, and we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“How are we killing two birds?” Martin wanted to know.
“I’m hungry.”
“There’s food at home.” As soon as his lips closed after the wordhome, Martin winced. “At the cabin,” he corrected himself, but Nick didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, but Magnus makes great black bean soup. But don’t tell him I said so, or his head might explode.”
“Did you…” Martin cocked his head and squinted at Nick. “Did you just make a joke?”
Scowling, Nick elbowed Martin. “I have a sense of humor.” The pointy elbow pushed Martin off-balance. He teetered, and although they were only fifteen feet off the ground, his life still flashed before his eyes.
“Shit!” Nick grabbed his arm, steadying him. “I’m sorry!”
“I’d say the jury’s out on the humor thing. But it’s ayeson murderous tendencies,” Martin grumbled as he made his way over to the ladder they’d set up on the backside of the small building. “Alright, I give in. Let’s get cleaned up and head over to the Donkey. You’re buying since you tried to kill me.”
“It was an accident,” Nick protested, clambering down the ladder and jumping to the ground instead of taking the last three rungs.
Martin did not jump, but carefully stepped off the last rung to the grass. There weren’t many times when he felt all of his forty-four years, but this was one of them.
They pushed their way inside the pub, immediately spotting Rufus at the end of the bar holding court. He was surrounded by several people Martin didn’t recognize, as well as Forrest Cooper and Dante Brown. Martin still hadn’t forgiven Brown for his shitty comments the day they’d discovered the skull.
