AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Or perhaps what they really wanted was to be told something was happening. That someone was doing something. That they were being listened to.
“If you’re happy to do it, I’ll be there for support,” Rita said.
“Well, hopefully no one will turn up with their pitchfork.”
Rita grinned. “We keep those for summer. It’s burning torches this time of year!” The grin faded a little. “While we’re talking work, you asked about the Bone House.”
Barbara raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was history.”
A sigh. “Look, I don’t know how it’s relevant and, like I said, it’s not something folk here like to talk about, but I dug out some old photos of the town. You might find some of the Bone House in there.”
“Thanks, Rita.”
“Sure. You can take a look after dinner, while you rest before dessert.”
“I’ll need to rest?”
“Oh, trust me—you’ll need to rest!”
36
Tucker hadn’t meant to end up in the Roadhouse Grill. But then, there were a lot of things in life he hadn’t meant to do.
He shouldn’t really be drinking. It didn’t have the same effect it used to, and it upset his guts. But old habits die hard.
The Grill was pretty empty. Still, Tucker felt the atmosphere shift, tension cut through the air as he walked in. Faces turned at his approach.
Carly stood behind the bar. Older, thinner (if possible), but the scowl was just the same.
“Tucker. Well, to what do we owe the displeasure?”
“I’m helping out while Chief Nicholls is in hospital.”
“That detective must be really desperate.”
He smiled pleasantly. “I guess so. A double bourbon, please.”
The scowl deepened. Tucker was sure the thought of not serving him crossed Carly’s mind, but she obviously needed the customers. She poured bourbon into a shot glass and slammed it on the bar in front of him. No ice.
“Thanks.” He pulled some crumpled bills out of his pocket.
“That’ll be six dollars.”
His eyebrows shot up. He pulled out some more notes. Carly snatched them and crossed to the till.
“Keep the change,” Tucker said.
“Wow. I’ll buy a penthouse.”
He sighed and walked to a table in a far corner. He felt people’s eyes move with him. He deliberately kept his own averted. He was a big man, but he avoided confrontation. Tried never to be the one to start the fight. As a black male, that was something you learned from an early age. Don’t provoke. Don’t give them a reason to pull a knife or a gun. Don’t give them an excuse to claim it was self-defense. If the police stop you, do what they say, never turn your back or walk away. They say drop, you drop. Survival. Self-preservation. Yeah, he knew all about that. Just like the Colony did.
He sat down with his drink and took a sip. It burned his throat and his guts ached. But it still felt good. There was a lot to mull over. Dalton trying to instigate a Colony cull to profit from the carnage. That made sense. But was Barbara right about Marcus’s killer? Tucker had never heard of a vampyr serial killer, but he supposed it was possible. Humans killed for kicks, so why not a vampyr? And it explained the connection to Todd.
He let his mind drift back. He could still picture Todd Danes with his scruffy blond hair and freckles. A slight, quiet kid, something of a misfit in Deadhart.
He had a younger sister, and his parents ran a motor-home park over in Talkeetna. After Todd died, people talked like they all knew him, like he was one of their own. The truth was that Todd was bullied at school and didn’t have many friends aside from Nathan.
The family left town a few months after his death. Tucker didn’t blame them. Deadhart hadn’t been kind to Todd when he was alive. Little wonder they couldn’t stomach the place now that he was dead.
