The door opened, and he hesitated. I wondered if he would turn, come back, stay with me. Instead, he walked out. The door closed softly as the scent of saltwater drifted into the house on a damp wind, cool where it touched my face with ghostly fingers.
Spud, sitting on the floor next to me, tapped his tail.
I could lie there. Wait for a repeat of the same morning we’d been living on a loop, or I could do something about it.
“It’s not stalking if we’re living together, right?” I asked Spud.
Spud waved his tail a little slower, as if he weren’t sure I had that right.
“Wanna go for a ride, boy?” That got me an enthusiastic tail wag. He ran over to the little box near the front door where we kept his leash, dug it out, and held it up for me, wriggling with delight.
I stretched, hooked the line to his collar, then grabbed my coat and phone. I looked out the window as Ryder’s truck pulled off down the dark road.
Then I was out the door and in my Jeep, Spud riding shotgun.
I followed Ryder, but not too closely. Ordinary didn’t have a lot of traffic this time of night, and Ryder was not only a reserve officer, he had also trained in some secret government monster-hunting program. He was aware of his surroundings.
But I didn’t think he’d expect me to follow him. I hadn’t any of the other times he’d snuck out of the house, so there was no reason for him to be suspicious.
Spud settled in, laying his head on my thigh. I blew out a breath, and ran my hand over his soft fuzzy head.
“I shouldn’t be doing this. I trust him. I do.”
Spud didn’t move his head, but his tail thumped on the back of the passenger seat.
“This doesn’t look like trust. I know that.” Ryder was through Ordinary now, headed northeast, and I followed. It wasn’t like me to leave town and not let my sisters know. But I had my cell on me and the police radio in the Jeep. If anything came up, they could find me.
He cruised along Hwy 101, then took the exit toward Otis, following Hwy 18. I thought maybe he was headed to the casino. For a minute, I wondered if this was about something other than the construction job, something other than him not wanting to be home.
Gambling. He could be going out to gamble every night and staggering back home in the early morning. Maybe he was in debt. Maybe one of his construction projects had gone bad. Or maybe he was addicted to gambling and didn’t want me to find out.
But he slowed miles before the casino, turning left into the parking lot of the little Rose Market. I pulled in behind the trash dumpster, hidden from his view by the low, one-story building itself.
In the daylight, the little white building with the red roof did a pretty good business from the locals scattered in the hills and fields around it, folks who didn’t want to make a longer trip for basic needs. It also served people driving between the casino and the beach.
Right across the street from it was one of the fire and rescue district stations.
But in the middle of the night, both buildings were dark and quiet.
I gave Spud one more pat, then got out of the Jeep and shut the door as quietly as I could. Voices, both male, I thought, were carrying on a conversation, neither voice particularly hushed. They were coming from the other side of the building, right about where Ryder had parked.
I made my way around the back of the building, still hidden from view, straining to hear.
“You know what I want, Ryder.”
I knew that voice. Mithra. I didn’t know Ryder had been meeting him outside of Ordinary.
“You want to either rule over Ordinary or destroy it. Because you made me the Warden, you think that means you can be judge and jury over everyone in town. Oh, and you want to remove the Reeds and their entire bloodline from ever holding an authority position in the town because…” He blew out a breath. “I’m a little fuzzy on the details. Was it because no one listened to your last Warden in the 1850s? Or because you don’t like it that all the other gods got together to decide on Ordinary’s laws and rules, and you refused to join them?”
Oh, my man was salty.
“Respect me, Ryder Bailey.”
“Or what? You’re already using me as a puppet so you can bust people for spitting on the streets of Sheridan, or doing occult arts in Yamhill, or selling brightly dyed baby chicks in Eugene.”
“If you would just do as I ordered—”
“I never signed a contract with you to be your lackey. I never signed a contract with you at all.”
