Guardian (The Protectors Series) (20 page)

“That makes sense,” Stefan said, “but I wanted you to know what I was pursuing.”

“Appreciate it.” Burton frowned at the papers on his desk. “I’ll tell you something. I don’t like that there’s been no sign of these weirdos since y’all met that guy in the road. First Miss Cinda, then, the very next night, Wiley, and then that guy you shot, Mel. Suddenly, the body disappears, and now it’s been two days with nothing. That could mean something worse is coming.”

“Let’s hope not,” Mel said. “What could be worse?”

“I don’t want to know,” the sheriff told them. “Really don’t. But I think about it a lot. I’m hoping the eyewitnesses were off and the missing body is our lone perp, though I remember you said he wasn’t the one you fought, Stefan.”

He huffed out a heavy sigh. “Mel, any luck with those dockets?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” he told her. “Better to be doing something than stewing about doing nothing.”

Stefan shifted forward in his chair. “If that’s all, Dan—”

“Nope. I wish it was.” The sheriff’s jaw tightened momentarily. “Since y’all are here, we might as well have a word about another pain in my butt.” Scowling, he said, “I got a phone call, prim and proper as you please, from Ms. Jilly Porter of the
National Investigator.
She claims y’all had somethin’ goin’ a long time ago and do again. Says your car was out at Miss Cinda’s overnight, Stefan.”

Mel’s stomach knotted.
Crap and double crap
. She and Stefan had enough pressure without that. And she purely hated being in the public eye. This was not going to help with that job application in Seattle.

If she still wanted it. Did she?

The sheriff continued, “The woman asked me if you two pairin’ off might ‘compromise the investigation.’” Making air quotes, Burton snorted. “Deputy Mitchell told me how she got in y’all’s faces. I can ‘compromise’ her, and I will if she makes a nuisance of herself. I’ve had some complaints from folks in town, enough that if she wasn’t some sorta press, I’d’ve moved her butt along already.”

Stefan looked at Mel with
Trust me?
in his eyes. When he read her assent, he casually laid his hand over hers, silent confirmation that he and she were involved. Mel’s heart pounded, but she laced her fingers through his.

“We’re on our game,” Stefan said. “You’ll have our best effort.”

Burton grinned. “That’s the spirit, and I’m behind you. Y’all run on and have a nice dinner. Seein’ as I’m stuck here, somebody might as well have some fun.”

Mel and Stefan wished the sheriff a good night and left him to his reports.

In the parking lot, they stopped by her car.

Stefan said, “I parked at the shelter to check on that sick boy. He’s doing better, so that’s one bright spot.”

“Well, don’t delay. I put a pot roast in the slow cooker at lunchtime.”

Stefan grinned. “I love pot roast.”

“I know.” Mel kissed him quickly. “While we eat, you can tell me what you didn’t tell the sheriff.”

Sobering, he slid an arm around her shoulders. “Thanks for backing me in there.”

“I believe in you.” She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Something else,” she said. “I felt like we were a team in there. It felt good.”

“Yeah.” His eyes softened, and he brushed her mouth over hers, sending her heart into overdrive. “It did.”

Leaning into him, tasting him, would be so easy, but deputies came and went via this parking lot. Mel swallowed hard and stepped back. “See you at the house.”

“Sun’s going down,” he said. “It’ll be dark when you get there.”

“Stefan—”

“Badge, Glock, Quantico training. I know.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes grave. “Humor me. Swing by the shelter so I can follow you. Please. You rate high on the creativity scale, too, sweet.”

A chill ran down Mel’s back. “Okay,” she said. He looked so serious. She couldn’t doubt he cared deeply for her. As she did for him. She had a second chance with the only man she’d ever loved, and by damn, she wasn’t going to blow it.

Watching Mel while they ate, Stefan wondered if she knew how beautiful she was with the candlelight reflecting in her eyes and casting a glow over her face. By tacit consent, they’d put the case aside and talked of books, movies, and vacations. The conversation and the simple, delicious food had eased the tension coiling inside him.

She smiled at him across her wineglass. “Remember when pot roast was a splurge for us?”

“Sure. Movies were, too. We’ve come up in the world.”

“We worked hard to do that.” Mel reached for his hand, and he carried hers to his lips. “Tell me what you kept from Dan Burton.”

“Let’s take our wine into the living room.”

He grabbed the bottle while she brought their glasses. Together, they settled onto the sofa.

“I ran those tests I told you about,” he said. “Cinda’s blood and Wiley’s are sensitive to energy manipulation, so I asked a few people I know for blood samples to compare.”

“What did you find?”

“Their blood shows only minimal response to magic. The sample groups are small, statistically insignificant, but they’re enough to make me think Griff was onto something.”

“I don’t see why these people would care, why they would single out their victims based on creativity rather than age and isolation.”

“Maybe they don’t. It’s a trail to follow, a possibility, but my gut says it’s a strong one.”

“It’s more than what I have right now.” Mel sighed and pushed back her hair. “I made the funeral arrangements today. Cinda wanted me to play her favorite hymn, ‘For the Beauty of the Earth.’ I don’t think I can do it, Stefan. Not alone. Would you play the guitar with me?”

“Of course, if that’s what you want.”

Her lips curved in a weary smile. “Thanks.”

“C’mon.” He tugged her to her feet. “You cooked, so I’ll clean up.”

They walked into the kitchen together. Mel sat at the table, sipping her wine and looking distracted.

Still,
distracted
beat
fleeing in a panic
any day. Damn, but he was proud of her. If she continued to handle things so well, he could take the next step up, show her some major feats like shielding, maybe scrying.

He was starting the dishes when his phone buzzed. He unclipped it from his belt. Will. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I got an e-mail from my mom. I wanted to let you know I forwarded it to you.”

“Did the lab find something in that sample?” Stefan couldn’t say
venom
with Mel sitting there. That came too close to mage secrecy concerns.

“Yes and no. The purple comes from a metallic substance they can’t entirely identify. It seems to be a blend of silicon and something the spectrometer couldn’t label. Mom attached the archaeometallurgist’s report, but I figure that’ll make as much sense to you as medical journals make to me.”

“Probably. Thanks, Will.”

“I wish it was better news. Get some rest.”

They disconnected. Stacking the dishwasher, Stefan focused on Will’s information. As with Mel’s reaction, Will’s partial progress, however small, offered some hope.

T
he next evening, as Stefan parked at the side of Griff and Val’s driveway, Mel steeled herself to meet his friends. If this picnic was like every other one she’d attended, he would wander off with the men, and she’d be left to make social chitchat with the women. That was so not her strong suit.

Fairy lights glimmered in the trees, and strings of bright paper lanterns hung between the branches. The place looked festive. She eyed the group on the stone patio as she climbed out of the car. The ones she’d met had been friendly, for Stefan’s sake. They were pleasant, smart people, but were they hiding secrets like his? Some of them, she would bet, were.

He smiled and ran a hand lightly down her arm. “Let’s go.”

“I still think we should’ve brought something,” Mel said, linking her fingers with his.

“Griff and Val have it covered.”

His hand on hers felt right. She leaned into him so their shoulders bumped.

An African-American, teenage girl tossed a Frisbee behind the house with two Hispanic children, a girl and a boy who looked about kindergarten age. Magnus romped with the trio.

“Hey, good to see you!” Smiling, Val hurried toward Stefan and Mel.

The next few minutes passed in a flurry of greetings and introductions. Griff joined the group, and Hettie waved from the kitchen door. Val introduced petite, brown-haired Lorelei Martin and her companion, lanky, bespectacled Ken Patterson.

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Lorelei said.

Marc Wagner brought tall, dark-skinned Chuck and Dora Porter to meet Mel. After them came Javy Ruiz and his pixieish, strawberry-blond wife, Karen.

A childish shriek of joy split the air. “Stefan, Stefan! Horsy!”

The small girl, maybe four years old, raced toward the adults, her black pigtails bobbing, and Karen Ruiz laughed. “That’d be our Sarah.”

Stefan grinned and leaned over, arms extended. The moppet ran straight to him, and he swung her up in the air. “Horsy needs to be paid.” Solemnly, he held up one hand. The child high-fived it, giggling, and he shifted her onto his back.

He planted a quick farewell kiss on the tip of Mel’s nose before trotting around the patio with Sarah. Stefan wore a wide grin, and Sarah giggled constantly. Mel’s throat tightened with longing. He looked so comfortable with a child on his back.

Val said, “I’m grabbing a lemonade, but we also have iced tea, water, various sodas, and beer. And milk, because of the short people. Who else needs a drink? Mel, Stefan?

“Lemonade’s great, thanks.” Mel smiled at her hostess.

“For me, too,” Stefan called from the other side of the patio.

Griff announced, “I’ll get the drinks, then I’m going to start grilling. Anybody wants in on that, it’s time.”

The men drifted toward the stone grill in the patio’s corner. Stefan set his small passenger on her feet, flashed Mel a grin, and followed. She joined the circle of women in green Adirondack chairs. If she took her cue from them, maybe this wouldn’t turn awkward.

Watching the men, Lorelei shook her head. “Funny how it divides this way, isn’t it?”

“I’m used to it,” Dora said. “That’s the only cooking Chuck does unless I’m sick in bed. Then he can manage hamburgers and spaghetti.”

“Keeps the kids fed.” Karen smiled. “Javy’s okay in the kitchen. He just doesn’t like it.”

Griff reached over Mel’s shoulder to set down her lemonade. “Neither do I. That’s why I’m marrying a great cook.” On his way back to the grill, he kissed the top of Val’s head.

A twinge of envy poked Mel’s heart. They were so not-self-conscious about their love for each other.

Val smiled after him. “He’s a great cook too, but he pretends not to be.”

Tasha Murdock spoke up from Dora’s other side. “I dream of having a personal chef. Preferably one who knows wine. Do you need the same, Mel, or do you cook?”

“I cook when I have to. I know how to fix about eight things and find the nearest pizza joint.”

“A kindred spirit.” Tasha toasted her with a Coke can.

Mel hoped so. She wanted to fit in with these women, and not only because they were Stefan’s friends. She looked across the table at Lorelei. “What do you do? Stefan said you live in Savannah.”

“I have a candle shop on River Street. I also carry sachets and herbal soaps, and I do flowers to order.”

Val added, “She makes everything herself. Gorgeous stuff. Griffin and I are thrilled with the centerpieces she’s making for our reception, white roses and yellow chrysanthemums.”

Lorelei snorted. “If Griff is thrilled, it’s only because you are. Artist or not, he’s a guy. He doesn’t care what’s in the middle of a table.”

“He did pay more attention to the food and wine choices,” Val conceded.

The two women’s faces were warm with trust and affection. Mel swallowed a bitter spoonful of envy. She’d never had a woman friend like that.

“I’d love to see your shop sometime,” she told Lorelei.

“We’re open ten to eight thirty Monday through Friday, ten to seven Saturday, one to five Sunday.”

Tasha laughed. “You can just rattle that right off, can’t you? Don’t tell me you forgot your business cards. Or were you just a little distracted?”

Lorelei blushed crimson, and Tasha hooted.

“Never mind,” Tasha said. “Ken’s a cutie. Hey, is anybody going to the Columbus Day sale at the mall?”

Mel would rather be shut in an interrogation room with a drug dealer who hadn’t bathed in a week. She looked over at Stefan and found him watching her. When she smiled, he grinned in return, the happy look in his eyes like a brush of warmth over her heart. He’d been checking on her, making sure she was having a good time.

“Mel, what do you think?”

She turned to answer Val. “About what?”

“Which is sexier, jazz or a ballad?” Val asked.

“Neither. Poetry, the old-fashioned kind with rhyme and meter.”

“An original thinker.” Karen nodded at Mel over her iced tea. “I like it.”

Mel took a swallow of lemonade to hide the sudden pang in her soul. These women were welcoming her into their circle. Such warmth was rare in her life.

“Hey,” Griff called. “We’re ready. Y’all come grab a plate!”

Mel walked to the grill with the others. In the controlled confusion of people milling around, she found Stefan beside her. When he smiled at her, Mel’s heart lifted.

“They’ll get the kids set first,” he said, handing her a green stoneware plate. “Then we’ll dive in. You can have chicken, salmon, or steak, medium.”

“Quite a spread.”

“Don’t miss Hettie’s red velvet cake. It’s her specialty.”

“Yum! Red velvet, got it.” She grinned at him.

Stefan brushed her hair off her cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

“They’re nice people.”

“Yeah. So are you.” He slung his free arm around her and kissed her temple.

For the rest of the evening, he stayed beside her. Conversation eddied and flowed along the table, but Mel focused on Stefan, savoring his forest scent, the brush of his thigh or shoulder against hers, and the intimate smiles he directed at her.

As Griff and Val cleared the table, Stefan asked, “Ready to sing with me?”

“Absolutely.” He’d warned her he’d promised to sing “Wheels on the Bus,” “Bingo,” and Brahms’s lullaby for the little ones.

He fetched his guitar from the barn and perched on the edge of the porch. Mel sat beside him as the familiar melody of “Wheels on the Bus” rippled off his fingers. He played the introduction and announced, “Everybody sings, or the musicians go home.”

He started the lyrics, and she joined in, picking up the harmony, after the first line. She watched his face and followed his lead. Her alto and his baritone blended as smoothly as ever, and the pleasure of it raised an ache in her heart, an awareness of how much she’d missed making music together.

Everyone sang along, enthusiasm and affection floating on the music. Stefan moved smoothly into “Bingo,” and then into the famous lullaby.

The sound died away, everyone applauded each other, and an exodus for the cars began.

Stefan seemed inclined to linger, so Mel wandered inside, admiring the new kitchen’s oak cabinets, copper stove hood, and green-flecked brown granite countertops on the way to the powder room.

As she emerged, her cell rang.
Dan Burton? At nine thirty?
Frowning, she pushed
accept.
“Hello, Sheriff. Is something wrong?”

“Mel, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but you know we’re stretched thin. Walt Thompson was going to check out Hooker Prairie tonight with Mike Rogers, one of our fill-in deputies. Only Mike caught some bug. He’s sick on his stomach, and I need you to fill in for him.”

Well, crap.
She’d been looking forward to a cozy evening with Stefan. He tugged the screen door open and walked in. Brows rising, he leaned against the counter. He must have overheard. Mel wrinkled her nose at him.

 Good thing he understood about duty. “I’ll be glad to step in, of course, but I’ll need a ride. I’m out with Stefan and don’t have my car.”

“Where do you need to go?” Stefan asked quietly.

“Excuse me a minute, Sheriff. Stefan just came in.” Lifting her chin from the phone, she said, “Dan needs me to fill in at Hooker Prairie tonight. Can you drop me?”

He frowned but nodded. “I could also go along.”

Mel shook her head at him. “I have my Glock and creds. Where should I meet Thompson?”

“I’ll have him bring you a department windbreaker and a shotgun. Y’all should meet up at Polly’s Landing. Stefan probably knows where it is.”

“I’m sure he can find it.” She cut the connection. “Stefan, there’s no need for you to go. Really, I can handle it. Besides, you’re a civilian.”

Grinning, he set his hands at her waist to draw her close. “I can handle a canoe. We could head out there, see what there is to see, maybe float along. Make out.” He nipped her bottom lip and added, “Besides, you, me, and the wildlife and the stars overhead in seven hundred square miles of wilderness…”

Mel sighed. “If only.”

“Yeah. Well, promise me you’ll be careful.” He kissed her, lightly and then more intensely. Mel’s heart tripped. The world spun as she clung to him.

When the kiss broke, he rested his forehead against hers. He seemed calm, but she could feel the tension in him.

“It’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“I know.” He kissed her again, quickly.

When they walked outside together, Val stood with Will and Griff by the chairs. Val looked from Mel to Stefan. “Can you stay a while?”

“I wish,” she said. “I’ve been called in to work.”

“I’m dropping her at Polly’s Landing,” Stefan said. “Then I have some work to do.”

A look passed between Griff and Stefan but Mel ignored it. They were probably both protective types. She’d get this job done and be back at Cinda’s in time to make Stefan forget he’d ever worried.

Driving away from Polly’s Landing, Stefan tapped the button on his Bluetooth headset. Griff answered, and Stefan told him, “I just dropped Mel. She and Walt Thompson are headed to Hooker Prairie.”

“I figured. We’re rolling, and Lockwood will back us up. I’ll have to talk fast to explain Will and Lockwood if anything happens, but Burton tends to focus on results more than procedure. We’ll meet you off Loring Road, behind Benson’s Bait Shop. Will says we can reach Hooker Prairie by canoe from there.” Griff paused. “They’ll be fine, Stefan. Mel’s smart and good at her job. So is Thompson. We’ll let them do their recon, and when they leave, we’ll mop up the problem.”

“Griff, if this goes south…”

“Valeria and Will and I talked about this, bro. You trust her. So we’ll trust her. But we’re all taking firearms so we don’t give ourselves away to the ghouls’ Mundane allies.”

“Only your shotgun will actually destroy them.”

“Yeah, well. You pay your money and take your choice.”

Stefan’s throat tightened at their loyalty.

Griff continued, “Maybe the question won’t come up.”

“Maybe.” Stefan signed off. But if there were ghouls at Hooker Prairie, defeating them without a display of magic was going to be damn near impossible.

Seated on the canoe’s front bench, Mel scanned the darkness ahead. In the rear, Walt Thompson steered, dipping into the water silently, stroking with only the faintest sound. She’d offered to help, but she lacked the experience to paddle as quietly as he did.

In the daytime, the cypress trees and others along the canoe trail would provide a contrast of red, green, gray, and brown, the colors of leaves, Spanish moss, and bark. At night, their shadowy, amorphous shapes blended seamlessly with the black water. Only the starlight glimmering faintly on the surface allowed her to distinguish it from the trees.

Stefan had been right about the stars. Millions of them twinkled above. Maybe he and she could come back here to stargaze sometime.

A faint splash to her left signaled an alligator sliding into the channel.

Mel squeezed her arm against the Glock in its shoulder rig under her windbreaker. Her earlier research on the swamp indicated that alligators didn’t bother canoes, but if one of the big reptiles decided to experiment, she could cope.

The canoe swung around another bend in the watery trail, and the faint glow of lamps penetrated the trees ahead. Mel’s heart hammered. She glanced back at Thompson, a faint shape in the darkness. He nodded.

A wildfire a month ago had cleared much of the undergrowth, so this area had little cover to offer. Another thirty yards, and she could make out figures on the flat, grassy prairie, four, no, five males. Wearing devil masks painted yellow?

As Thompson had said, the grassland was about fifty or sixty feet wide. Behind it lay a stand of trees, and there were trees along the water. Those would be the only cover.

If Deputy Garner, who was patrolling the area as backup, had to join them, she would come through those trees. Garner could also block the narrow, dirt road leading into the prairie from the highway if anyone tried to escape that way.

Sound carried over water. Normal conversation should be audible, if not clear, at this range, but only garbled murmurs reached her.