The streetlamp cast feeble light across the front lawn and part of the driveway. There, between the darkness and the shadows, Glen saw him. Watched him.
It was the good-looking guy, Arlan. The one who had the thing for Fia.
Fia had obviously left Arlan to keep an eye on the B and B while she was out.
It pissed him off that she had sneaked out of the house again. Left his bed to go do God knew what. See God knew who. Go God knew where. And it worried him. No, he was more than worried. Worried wasn’t a strong enough word for the fear he had carried in his chest these last couple of days.
All week, he’d told himself that Fia’s odd behavior had nothing to do with the cases. That she had nothing to do with the murders, and knew no more than he did. But he had wondered if his attraction to her…his lust for her…was preventing him from clearly seeing what was going on here. He knew Fia well enough to realize she had nothing to do with the deaths, but what if she was protecting someone who did? Anyone who could look past the weirdness of Clare Point could see how close these families were to each other. How devoted they were. How they protected each other and nurtured each other.
He pulled a T-shirt over his head, watching Arlan.
The man whose eyes seemed to glow in the weird light watched the house. But he didn’t see Glen. Didn’t know Glen was awake. That Glen was watching the watcher.
That would make getting out of the house undetected a hell of a lot easier.
Still in a quandary, Fia followed the teenagers into the woods at the edge of the game preserve. She’d immediately put up a mental wall to prevent Maria or Katy from picking up any of her thoughts, and therefore her presence. But it quickly became evident that the girls wouldn’t have noticed if an entire pride of wild panthers were following them. The girls were completely, sweetly, oblivious to their surroundings. No one was thinking about Mahon, who had been decapitated on the path they were following. No one cared that Shannon had very likely been followed out of the same forest. All that mattered to them were the human boys they were going to meet.
As Fia followed Kaleigh and her friends, she caught snippets of their conversation and thoughts, mixed with mental images. With the mental wall raised to protect herself, Fia was unable to clearly read the girls’ thoughts. Unfortunately, at least in Fia’s case, the wall worked in both directions.
“So he called you?”
“Told you he was sorry he was an ass?”
You think he’s really willing to wait to fuck you, or is that just another line he’s feeding you?
“We’re just going to talk. That’s why I want you guys to come. To back me up.”
Why the middle of the night? Why here?
“Our parents will kill us, they find out we’re out here with that nut job wandering around hacking people’s heads off.”
My dad forbade me to see John again. Said he’d lock me in my room for the next century if he caught me sneaking out again.
The words and thoughts were jumbled. The girls and their feelings seemed so innocent. Their world so full of possibilities which they would all too soon realize were just dreams. Not realities. All too soon, they would realize the width and breadth of the mallachd. Cursed. Cursed for all of eternity.
“Now you guys have to stay here. He said come alone. He said I had to come by myself,” Kaleigh whispered.
The girls had halted on the deer path, not far from where Fia, Shannon, Sorcha, and Eva had found the teens that night at the campfire.
Fia halted, remaining off the path, standing behind a stunted wild pecan tree. She could smell burning wood in the cool night air.
So Derek had a cozy little campfire going. How romantic. Maybe Fia was wrong. Maybe this really was just a teenage midnight rendezvous.
Then she smelled the faintest scent of gasoline and she tensed, at once.
Who started campfires with gasoline on a game preserve? Only idiots, or someone who intended to burn something more than firewood.
Chapter 23
It was easier to get out of the house, past Arlan, than Glen had expected it would be. A window over the washing machine in the laundry room off the kitchen, a sprint across the backyard, then over a picket fence and he was on the street that ran behind the B and B. He went up two blocks, cut across a lawn and walked in the direction Fia had gone.
The street, the whole town, was eerily quiet. There were no characteristic sights or sounds associated with a small town in the middle of the night. No dogs barked. No cats prowled, knocking lids off garbage cans. No heat pumps hummed. Not a car to be seen.
There was no sign of life except the glow of dim interior light he spotted behind the drawn blinds of the town’s little rinky-dink museum, now closed for the season. And that was probably a light left on for security purposes. He hadn’t visited the museum, but he guessed it was important to the townspeople that they protect the broken pieces of china and chipped arrowheads Fia told him were contained in glass cases in the building.
Other than the glow from the museum, not a single window in the town shone with light. Not a single person was apparently in a bathroom, or watching late night TV. Even for this weird town, it was weird.
He kept walking. Hands in his pockets. Sidearm in the holster he wore under his jacket.
Glen didn’t know where Fia had gone, only what direction, but he followed his instinct. Gave in to his gut.
As he walked, he thought about his father. Wondered if it was a night like this, if it had been
