Why would anyone want to harm a psychic reader?
My fingers tremble as my body decides that flight is better than fight, afraid that I’ll be the next to die. I don’t make a sound as I rush toward the flap on the tent, push through, and race away from the dead woman I just met.
I never look back as I run. I’m too frightened of who or what I’ll see. My arms pump, and I rush through Main Street, not stopping until I reach the sheriff’s office.
The door is shut when I arrive. Panicked, I begin to pound on it with my fist until I see Boomer striding toward me.
He’s frowning as he unlocks the door and opens it. “Nat?”
I push him in my haste and enter, shoving the door closed behind me. I’m heaving air into my lungs as I stare out into the street. No one followed me. It looks normal outside.
“Are you okay? Is someone following you?”
“No. To both,” I pant, finally spinning around to stare up at him.
“You wanna tell me what has you so spooked?”
“I just went to see Madam Serena.”
He tilts his head. “She give you a message or something?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the issue.”
“You’re gonna have to do better with an explanation, Nat.”
“I can’t,” I croak. “She’s gone, Boomer. Madam Serena is dead.”
He blinks. “Shit.” Boomer guides me away from the door and over to the nearest set of chairs. “Sit. Tell me what happened.”
I describe everything I can remember, trembling as I clench my fingers in my lap when I finish. “I don’t get it, Boomer. Why would anyone want to harm her?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. Stay here. I’m going to make a few phone calls and tell my deputies to secure the scene.”
“Okay.” Where else will I go? I’m too afraid that the second I leave, whoever murdered Madam Serena will come after me next.
My mind wanders as Boomer paces, making his calls, until he finally returns to me with a mug of coffee.
“Here. Drink this. It’ll help with the shakes.”
My fingers tremble as I accept the drink.
I’m twitchy and feel off-kilter. Everything seems to happen in a blur, like my mind can’t catch up. I drink from the mug,vaguely realizing it’s strong coffee with a bit of cream and a sweetener. It’s hot but not scalding. It feels good on my throat.
A loud knock makes me jolt as I turn toward the door.
“It’s just Hayride. Scythe sent him to stay with you.”
Oh. That’s good. I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t care if that makes me seem pathetic or helpless. I just saw a person die. I’m probably fucked up for life.
Hayride rushes inside as soon as Boomer opens the door. He pulls me up from the chair, and then his warmth engulfs my body, wrapping around me in a welcome hug.
His reaction is a bit surprising since we’re not more than strangers, but I need this human contact, and to feel like I’m not so alone. My fingers grip his shirt as my cheek rests over his heart. For a few minutes, we stand there. Locked in a moment. Breathing.
I’m no longer cold. Hayride’s heat has chased the chill away.
He finally speaks, and it’s not what I expect, although I don’t mind. “I’m staying with you for the night.”
I have a chance to tell him if I don’t want to be here or with him or if I want to return to the Hanging Tree. But I don’t want any of that because I’m too close to losing it and breaking down. I’m a pane of splintered glass, and the cracks are beginning to spread. “Okay.”
