Walcott’s expression hardened.
“Charlie was my friend too. I hate what he did to Isabel. She sure as hell didn’t deserve it, and although I’m still not convinced that he had anything to do with Jimmy’s death, I feel sick about that too. I’ve come a long way from the nerdy red-haired kid from Mercy. I worked my ass off to get where I am. I’m making a run for senator next year, and I’m not about to start off my political campaign by approving a warrant on a potentially innocent woman without good reason. The press will eat that shit up.”
“So this is all about your career? Never mind that it might save lives?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a self-righteous prick, Tommy. No jury in the world is going to look at the West girl and believe she’s a murderer.”
Walcott lashed out, grabbing Drew by the neck, and squeezing his throat painfully. The glass Drew had been holding crashed to the floor, leaving small shards to scatter across the polished wood.
“You pathetic maggot,” he growled. “You dare call me self-righteous? I knew you when you were still a snot-nosed little fucker, pissing your pants every time one of the quarterbacks shoved your skinny ass into a locker. You seem to have forgotten who it was you went to when you needed protection.”
“Be that as it may,” Drew wheezed. “I’m not that skinny kid anymore, and my answer is still no. You can’t bully my signature out of me.”
“We’ll see,” Walcott grated out as he smashed his fist into Drew’s face. He watched dispassionately as his nose exploded, spraying blood across the desk. He pulled his fist back and punched him again… and again. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky as Chief Walcott headed back to his car. Unlocking it and slipping back into the driver’s seat, he dropped the signed warrant onto the passenger seat and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, absently wiping the blood from his knuckles. Starting the engine, he pulled out of the driveway.
Drew slumped over in the seat at his desk, holding his aching ribs as he stared at the decanter in front of him. One eye was swollen shut. Bloodied tissue was shoved up both of his nostrils to try to stem the bleeding from his nose, which was swelling and set at a slightly off-kilter angle. With shaking hands, he tried to raise a fresh glass of Scotch to his lips, but his mouth was swollen and split, allowing him no more than a noisy slurp.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured to the person he could feel standing behind him, watching as he moved more fully into his line of sight. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Charles.”
Charles Connell looked down at his childhood friend, noting the darkening bloodstains marring his expensive sweater.
“It was never a game,” he replied quietly. “Did he get the warrant?”
“Yes.” Drew nodded, wincing in pain.
“You know what to do next?”
“Don’t worry.” Drew took another noisy slurp of his Scotch. “I know what to do.”
“Would you like a straw?” he asked dryly, raising a brow.
“Fuck you, Charles.” Drew set his glass down. “Next time, you can be the one who gets his face smashed up.”
“Andrew”—he nodded derisively— “always a pleasure.”
Drew watched silently as Charles disappeared back through the doorway, and raising his glass once again, he mockingly toasted the empty room.
Olivia stepped out of the car and locked it, turning to Theo, who was holding the traumatized puppy in his arms.
“Poor baby.” She smiled as she stroked Beau’s head softly.
Beau had been less than impressed by his visit to the vet to get registered and get his shots. Unfortunately for Olivia, he’d shown his displeasure by peeing all over the back seat of her car.
“Do you want to take him in, and I’ll clean up the car?” Theo asked as she looked up at him.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s alright, I’ll do it. I know you haven’t had much of a chance to paint. Let him curl up in front of the fire and go amuse yourself.”
He leaned down and took her lips as Beau squirmed between them. “I’d rather be amusing you,” he murmured.
She laughed and pushed him lightly. “Later.”
Smiling, she followed him up the steps to the porch and opened the door. Leaving Theo to settle Beau, she headed into the kitchen to fill a bowl with soapy water and retrieve a cleaning cloth before returning to the scene of the crime. Shaking her head, she pushed up her sleeves and set to work.
She’d almost finished when she felt a cold tingle dance down her spine. Straightening up, she glanced around the immediate area, but she couldn’t see anything. Shaking her head, she dried off the seat and emptied the bowl out before throwing the used cloth into it. The feeling came again, and this time she stopped and looked into the woods, but from this distance, she couldn’t see anything.
Dusk was falling, the temperature was plummeting, and the sky was now ablaze with hazy purple and pink, which reflected on the rippling water of the lake. It would have been almost picture perfect if it weren’t for the churning she felt in her gut. Something wasn’t right; it felt like she was being watched. Turning away from the jetty, which sat on the shore of the lake to the left of her house, she looked back toward the woods.
She could feel the demon’s presence now, deep in the heart of the place, festering like an open wound. But this was something different. It felt similar to the first day she’d arrived back in Mercy when she’d had the feeling of being watched. It was unsettling, yet in a strangely familiar way. Deciding it would be unwise to linger, she locked the car, and picking up the bowl, she headed back inside the house.
