For all the people who sported hearing aids at Heavenly Acres, it seemed just as many had ears like bloodhounds.
So Eli drove out to Heavenly Acres, stepped outside his car.
And listened.
THUNK.
A few seconds later:
THUNK.
About five seconds passed this time.
THUNK.
The thunks were slightly different in timbre each time.
It definitely wasn’t gunfire. Or the sound of construction. It was about a mile off, maybe, though sound at night could be deceptive and bounce off things and carry.
What the hellwasit?
Never a dull moment on his job.
There wasn’t much else happening, so he rolled down his window and cruised the streets at a low speed, listening, in search of the sound, and it grew louder as he took that turn up toward the hills behind the Angel’s Nest Bed and Breakfast.
And he saw a figure standing on the hillside below the billboard of The Baby Owls.
“Whatthe...”
It was Glory. He knew that from the hair hanging down her back, flying up in the wind, like she was a witch in a fairy tale.
A hammered witch, that was.
Four empty Mickey’s big mouth bottles glowed in a neat row near her.
He pulled up as close as he could get to her in his cruiser.
She didn’t even turn around. He cut the engine.
And rolled down the window.
“Hi, Glory.”
“Well,hello, Eli.” She didn’t look at him. She squinted one eye like Popeye, then pulled her arm back. She had a fist-sized rock in her hand and she seemed to be drawing a bead on the billboard of The Baby Owls.
What the hell was shedoing?
“Hey, Glory. How about you put that rock down and climb in the car. We can have a chat.”
She turned toward him.
He patted the front seat.
“Nope. I still got some rocks left. BecauseIat least like to finish...” She hurled that rock. She still had quite an arm. “...what I start.”
Oh boy. That sounded like an innuendo or an accusation.
He should proceed with caution here.
