The Departed

the right way, he might not have seen it. It was a person, right? He didn’t think there was a scarecrow or anything out there. What the hell? Standing so still, staring down. Staring at what?
    No. It was a person.
    In the middle of the field, so fucking late—
    What the hell?
    Hissing out a breath, Brendan went still and continued to stare, creeping along, barely daring to move, barely daring to breathe. He was quiet—couldn’t be seen now.
    Damn it, what the hell was it with people fucking up his plans?
    * * *
     
    “IF the boy interrupts us, I’ll be so unhappy.”
    There was just the faintest crunch of twigs breaking. Fainter, getting fainter. Leaving them, the boy was leaving. Good.
    Their time together shouldn’t be interrupted.
    “We don’t have much time together, do we? My pretty little angel.” The flowers were already spread out, an offering. “I hope you like them. It wasn’t as easy to get them as I’d hoped. Not the perfect ones I wanted for you, at least.”
    Perfect, everything for the angel must be perfect. Perfect for their day together. The only time they had together, every year. The day was almost done and then it would be a year— no .
    It shouldn’t have happened this way. “My angel…my one and only. Damn it.”
    There was a sob, harsh and ugly. She’d threatened to tell. Why had she done that? Didn’t she know? Hadn’t she understood?
    It shouldn’t have happened this way. It hadn’t been meant to happen this way. Anger, guilt, grief, and longing—they were a poisonous mix. “You were so sweet and lovely. I want you back.”
    Tears fell and were ignored.
    “I miss my angel.”
    * * *
     
    DEZ jerked on her wrinkled clothes, the phone wedged against her shoulder. It rang and rang—four rings for Taylor Jones was a hell of a lot of rings. When he finally answered, he sounded a lot more awake than she felt.
    “We need to get out to Beau Donnelly’s house. And I’ve no clue where it is. Can you come get me?” she said.
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Weird phone call. Hell, everything about this town is weird. Is there something in the water, or what? I don’t know if it’s anything, but my gut says something’s wrong.”
    “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    Dez was dressed in another minute and spent the next five minutes curled over a cup of nuked instant coffee, shuddering at the taste of it. Spying the cabinet, she opened it and saw granola bars and cereal. Yeah, Taylor had stocked it with basics. Healthy basics. Typical. But she wasn’t going to be picky. She grabbed a granola bar and tore it open, eating half of it in one huge bite. She shoved another one in her pocket. She couldn’t keep going on steam and nothing else. Well, steam and caffeine.
    She saw the flare of headlights and headed toward the front door, coffee in hand. Whatever they had to deal with, she’d need more caffeine to do it. She was outside, shivering in the cold night air, by the time he’d stopped in her driveway. Climbing into Taylor’s car, she shot him a narrow look. “You look ridiculously awake for one in the morning,” she muttered.
    “You rely on caffeine too much,” he replied. “What’s with this phone call?”
    “I don’t know.” She glanced down at her phone as if it would tell her more than it already had. “We’re going to Asher Road. I did a Google search.”
    “I know where it is. Tell me about the call.”
    “You know where it is,” she echoed, rubbing her brow. “Of course you know where it is. It was Tristan’s sister. I met her the other day. Talked to her briefly. Gave her my card. I didn’t really expect her to call me and then she does, roughly fifteen minutes ago, and she’s babbling about some shadow she saw and how this boy Beau is in trouble.”
    “Did she call the cops?”
    “I told her to.” Dez rubbed her temple. “But she hung up on me.”
    “Did you call them?”
    Dez shot him a sour look. “I did better. I called the FBI.”
    Taylor sighed and grabbed his phone from the console. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the seat and hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in not calling the police right away.
    It took only five minutes to get to the house, but those five minutes were an eternity.
    THE second Dez promised she was on her way, Tiffany disconnected, ignoring anything else the woman had to say. All she could think about, all she could hear was the rumble of Beau’s Mustang. That gleaming, vintage Mustang.