“Right here. It’s the tree closest to the house and the road.”
Kaz was on his knees in a moment, pocket flashlight in his teeth, peering into the trunk and down the shaft. His head circumscribed most of a circle as he scanned whatever lay underground. “Tunnel,” he proclaimed, once he’d crawled backward and gotten off his knees. “Looks like we might have a waystation.”
“Waystation?” I asked.
“Think of it as a stop on a rail or subway line.”
I pivoted to scan the orchard and note the locations of the other trees in question. I pointed toward the first one we stumbled on. “Any chance the tunnel heads in that direction?”
Kaz nodded. “Sure does. And then it heads over that-a-way.”
He gestured toward the third tree, out of sight behind a slope in the land.
“You up for exploring?” I was so, so ready.
“Aye, but we’ll need to come back tomorrow. With equipment. Which means we need to stay the night.”
The tiniest bit deflated and with another complaint to review, I left Tanner and his cohorts to work out amongst themselves who would do what, given the twists in the orchard investigation. I didn’t get to meet River and Rose. They were occupied inside the farmhouse with working healing spells on Cliff and Abi and made it clear they could not be interrupted.
On my final stop before home, I parked near the outdoor farmer’s market in the center of town. I was reaching for my stash of cloth shopping bags when Tanner knocked on the passenger’s door and planted his elbows on the window opening. He’d ditched his hat, pulled his hair into a low ponytail, and donned a pair of sunglasses, sending a quiver straight to my knees. The man was achingly handsome.
And my addled hormones were responding. Strongly. “Hey.”
“Do you have time to talk?” The obsidian glass shielding his eyes couldn’t mask the concern drawing tight lines across his forehead and to the sides of his mouth.
“I do,” I said. “But I missed lunch, and I really need to pick up some things for dinner.”
“I’ll help. Then we can go eat.”
“We?”
The lower half of the serious face cracked into a smile, and he lifted his glasses. “Agent Jones, would you care to have dinner with me this evening so that we may review the events of this day and discuss how our offices might proceed to work together on this investigation?”
I thought about his offer for all of one-point-five seconds. “Sure.”
Summer’s crush of tourists meant I had to lock my car. I divvied up the bags and let Tanner follow me to the stall selling apple cider mini-donuts. Munching on a couple of treats would stave off my hunger and give me time to think about dinner. I paid for a half-dozen cinnamon-and-sugar covered confections, nabbed the one on top, and offered the greasy paper bag to Tanner.
“Dessert first?” He peered at me over the top edge of his sunglasses. The glow I’d seen at the Pearmains’ was present in the golden sparks glinting in his faceted eyes.
I’d had my feet in exam room stirrups first thing that morning, silently swearing off intimate encounters with magically-enhanced men, and here I was, losing my resolve at the earliest opportunity. And what was it with the sparkles? Was it a druid thing?
I’d ask another time. Instead, I answered, “Always.”
Belly growling, I ate another donut while I collected and paid for a bag of basil and paper produce boxes of wild, sweet strawberries and yellow raspberries. I never tired of the bounty of the island, and to touch, taste, and smell all the life around me was a welcome respite after my encounter with a chest freezer loaded with death. I shuddered and pinched off another sugary bite.
“May I?” Tanner held a cloth bag open. I deposited my purchases, and he followed my methodical pace, asking. “Do you feel obligated to buy something from each merchant?”
“Am I that obvious?” I moved to the next stall and was about to bury my nose in the cleft of a plump heirloom tomato when my phone vibrated.
“MOM,” read the first text, followed quickly by “PIZZA” and “Dad says he needs our help this weekend.”
Funny how my sons always had time to communicate when the topic was their hunger. Tanner moved ahead to a tent displaying desserts while I texted Thatch and Harper.
“CHORES”
“DO THEM”
“HOME SOON”
I looked up in time to see a smiling young woman with chin-length hair and a spiked collar place a lattice-topped pie into a box. Her profile was familiar and her name was on the tip of my tongue, though I couldn’t retrieve it. Tanner handed over a credit card while I searched my brain.
“This okay?” he mouthed, pointing at the box being wrapped with string.
I nodded and waved my arm in the direction of the bank of shops and restaurants flanking the side of the temporary market. I ordered two pizzas to go at the Italian place and found an empty table where I could sit and wait. My unexpected dinner companion cast a long glance over the milling crowd before heading in my direction.
“Calli,” Tanner said, his voice low, “put down your phone and look at me like we’re flirting or something.” He slid the red-lettered pie box onto an empty chair. “Don’t look out the window. Look at me.”
Working against the urge to turn my head and do precisely what he’d asked me not to, I placed an elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. With poured concrete under my leather-shod feet and glass and metal to my right, I couldn’t get a read on what might be happening outside the restaurant.
“We’re being monitored,” he said.
“Since we left the orchard?”
Tanner shook his head and reached across the table to touch his fingertips to my elbow. “No, since we entered the market.”
“How do
