Ultimately, I texted Mordechai’s number to Claire and told her I’d be cleaning up an old job we’d worked on for the next week or so, and if she couldn’t get a hold of me, to call this number.
This text served a couple of purposes. First, it gave me a reason to check in withsomeone, which seemed unreasonably reassuring in a post-Mordechai world. Secondly, if I didn’t check in with Claire and she got worried, which she probably would, she would call the rabbi’s phone. Chances were good that either Rabbi Ethan or his wife would answer, or she’d be referred to someone at Rockdale Temple. Either way, eventually they would connect her with me, and me with the rabbi, and the rabbi with the envelope I’d left on my kitchen counter, which contained everything anyone needed to know about where I was and what I’d be doing. So, in the event I was in trouble, and Claire took the initiative to help, she could show up with people who could actually, you know, do something.
This all seemed like a good plan. Then again, I was about to go confront a houseful of homicidal demons with nothing but a few psalms and a bad attitude. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for careful planning.
At my request, Max’s driver pulled over on the north side of Hooperton at a convenience store and gas station. He refilled his vehicle while I went inside for supplies. I immediately caught the attention of the plump woman behind the counter. She was talking to a man working the register, but they both shut up and smiled as I came up. I’d been marked as a stranger. I could feel their interest, their curiosity, and I wondered if they’d been talking about the death out at the Graham estate. Would anyone even know? Surely there’d been cops, a coroner’s van. Joe hadn’t been a regular figure at the house, but he’d died, presumably, on their property. Was there any way a secret like that wouldn’t get out in such a small town?
“Here you go, dear,” the woman said, handing me back change for my twenty. “Do you have gas too?”
“Um—I think we paid at the pump.” I suddenly felt the downside of the woman’s curiosity. My driver looked like a driver—not a family member, not a boyfriend. Would she put the two together, know where I was going? “Thanks,” I said and hurried out.
My guy came out a few minutes later. I was already in the car, my provisions stowed, my stomach sour.
The rest of the trip was different. He took us around the small town on what passed as an outer belt, and I found I missed seeing the quaint village square once again. Had Joe lived in this town his whole life? Was he as much of a fixture as the courthouse and library? Was his family here?
Why did he die?
Not how. How was a given. If Joe had been killed in some ordinary way, like by an ax-wielding serial killer, Max wouldn’t be sending a car to come fetch me to the countryside, he’d probably be calling his lawyer. So Joe had to have taken his own life in some way, or fallen sick in some bizarre fashion, or had some sort of strange accident. I was betting on it beingoption one or three, and I couldn’t stop the morbid curiosity that swelled up inside me as I considered all the angles.
An accident? Maybe, but the timing seemed a little questionable for that. It was way more likely to be suicide, but suicide how long ago? Max hadn’t exactly been keeping tabs on Joe. He hadn’t come to our little family meeting. So how had anyone figured out he was dead? I was pretty sure that if he’d killed himself, he’d probably used a gun. Out in the sticks like this, people were lousy with guns.
We continued into the countryside, and my nerves ratcheted up as each mile felt darker, more intense. Trees pressed closer to the road, their branches forming a canopy that turned the sunlight green and strange. I saw a dead deer in the ditch, its belly swollen, and then another a quarter-mile later. The third one was still alive, struggling to stand on broken legs as we passed.
“Jesus,” my driver breathed, but he didn’t slow down.
When we finally reached the Graham estate, though, I was relieved to see that I wouldn’t be the chief form of distraction for the family: the cops would be.
The driver didn’t miss a beat but parked the car discreetly by the large barn that used to hold the horses. “Do you need to see Max before you leave?” I asked him.
He turned and smiled at me, meeting my eyes with a soft, compassionate gaze. “Not at all. Mr. Graham already paid for both the trip and a tip. But looks like there’s quite a bit of excitement up there. Do you want to make sure you want to stay before I leave?”
I was so startled by the offer that I blinked, then shook my head quickly. “Thank you—I’m only staying for a few days. To, um, help out.”
“Here’s my card.” He handed back an official heavy card with a driving service insignia stamped on it. A step above Uber, forsure. “You need me to come get you, you call. It’s a long way from the city, and you shouldn’t be out here without a way back.”
For some reason, the guy’s random kindness made me want to cry. Even if he was simply angling for future business, I didn’t care. “Thanks.” I took the card, then got out of the vehicle, dragging my bags with me. There were two cars in the driveway besides Max’s and the two police cruisers. It was a full house in Crazytown.
And I was walking into it.
“Delia.” Max’s voice was so loud and relieved that it startled me. I jerked my head up, stopping short as he emerged from the house and trotted down the stairs. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He approached me with long strides; his face fixed into a cheerful smile that only looked a little like a death rictus. “Please hug me,” he murmured intently.
“’kay.” I dropped my bag and stepped into what I thought was a credible hug. “What’s going on?” I asked into his shoulder.
“As far as the police are concerned, you’re a friend I met while in grad school. You’re absolutelynotan exorcist.”
I patted him on the back, trying to stamp down the laughter bubbling up inside me. “Glad to hear it.”
He turned and grabbed my bag, still talking quickly. “Joe was found by my aunt Emily yesterday morning. She swore she’d seen him alive and healthy—well, as healthy as he ever got—last week. But when she found him yesterday, he was behind the lake house, off into the woods. He’d shot himself, but the official story is that he died by hanging. That’s what everyone in town will be told.”
Gun. Called that.
I clamped down on the shiver that rolled through me, wondering if my demon was waking up again. Now wasn’t the time. “Any idea when?” I asked Max.
“The coroner is ruling that the death happened within the last couple of days, but she won’t be more specific yet. Apparently, there’d been some animals in the area…” He tightened his jaw. “It’s hard to tell exactly when. And so far, there’s no reason why.”
I winced. “Was he unstable?”
